


Lair of the Beast

by ximeria



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Alternate Universe - World War II, Attraction, M/M, Pre-Relationship, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-11 03:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4420118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ximeria/pseuds/ximeria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>D-Day never happened and in the harsh winter of 1951/52 Charles Xavier is running across a frozen field in war torn France. He can't let himself be caught, because if he falls, no one will look for Raven, no one will find his sister and make sure she's safe.</p>
<p>He'd promised himself to keep her safe. He can't fail her - she's all he has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brilcrist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brilcrist/gifts).



> I've been working on this on and off since the summer of 2014 - it's not going to go above 30K words, but with various other writing challenges, I kept nursing this until I felt I had a story to write. It was inspired by a fantastic work by [Brilcrist](http://brilcrist.deviantart.com/art/An-Unfinished-Life-286621867) and my dear, your artwork is ever the inspiration. I was going to keep this story on my harddrive for a while yet, but seeing your tumblr and realizing you might need something to take your mind off your injury, I wanted to try to cheer you up a little.
> 
> Yes, I choose to try to do so with a story about Europe at war with the pain and suffering this of course contains. Ahem.
> 
> Thank you to Afrocurl for reading through this, pointing out weak points (I've taken your suggestions on most of it) - you're a star and whatever errors might be in there will be up to my shortcomings, never yours. Fast and bloody efficient ;)
> 
> Thank you to Shigtopia for reading through it, commenting and cheering me on.
> 
> I'm tweaking a few things as the chapters get posted, but the story is written to the end, so this won't be a WIP that drowns in the pits of AO3 to never be finished.
> 
> It's not as slashy as what I'd normally write (sorry Afrocurl), but if you're familiar with the slashiness of the comics, rest assured this lands somewhere around this. The rating is mostly on the safe side as I do mention death and destruction because of war.

## Preface

**Linchpin** :  
_A pin inserted through the end of an axletree to keep the wheel on._  
_Linchpin event - if removed from history, drastically changes the outcome_

The great turning point of WWII was D-Day. A lot of events happened that led to D-Day being an efficient tool in ending the war. 

Imagine removing a few of these events, though. Pearl Harbor happens, but instead of joining the war, the US closes its borders, focusing on the threat from Japan. Germany sees the opportunity in this and does not declare war on the US. They still sink the few supply ships that try to get through to Europe, but their numbers are already dwindling and the Germans claim they're defending against an outside threat.

Without the outside aid for the Allies, Russia decides that the rest of Europe is a lost cause and fortifies her borders. Hitler still marches his men into Russia, losing great numbers of soldiers, depleting the strength of the Third Reich Army.

Britain assists the mainland as much as possible, hoping that this will at least stall the German army. Volunteers from around the world go to Europe to fight the good fight. A great many Americans among them - even if their governments won't join, this is not a fight one turns the back to.

If asked, most historians would say that without D-Day the war would have been prolonged.

With this in mind, Europe could be facing a stalemate. Barely enough food to go around, many people dying from starvation, soldier losing lives in the border skirmishes that are bound to happen. No one sat down and drew borders, so crossing into enemy country happens both voluntarily and by accident - almost always with death as the outcome.

Queue the winter of 1951/1952. It's a cold one and 22 year old Charles Xavier, living in Britain, receives news that shatters his world. Two weeks later, he's neck deep in trouble and fears he won't see the light of another morning.

* * *

## Chapter 1

There were… there were voices in his head again. Some French - locals, feeling the bite of winter, the cold, the lack of sufficient food… Those weren't of any concern to him. The German ones, however - they had a ...taint of military sternness about them, the fact that he could tell that they were hunting someone. Possibly him.

The ground was crisp and slippery under his feet, the stars above blinking. The only light he had to go by was that of the moon, painting the frosty ground and the snow in a pale, silvery light.

If he could hear them, they must be close by. He really should hone the ability to judge the distance to people through their thoughts. His own survival depended on this. They didn't seem as distorted as the ones he'd normally feel when people where further from him than he really hoped the soldiers were. Of course, he might just be picking up more because he was on the run from them, and thus paying more attention to it, looking for their thoughts, trying to stay unnoticed.

His muscles were screaming at him as he tried to move as fast and quietly as he could. Charles had no clear idea of what time it was. But he'd been on his feet, moving pretty much for days now. At least he was sure it was days. With what little sleep he'd managed to catch in between, he really had lost touch with timekeeping.

Focus, he told himself. Where are they? Pushing his powers outward, he brushed against minds. Close, but not so close that he'd been found, he couldn't hide for a moment or two, catch his breath. And if he was right, they were moving further away from him. _If_ he was right. Hopefully he was.

Just a moment of rest, then he would carry on, find somewhere to stay for the coming day, when he couldn't count on the dark of night hiding him. He needed rest more than anything else, and he'd be no good in his search for Raven if he fell over somewhere, or grew so tired he'd make a mistake and get caught by the German soldiers.

A crop of trees stood out before him, and Charles headed for their black shadows. He let them swallow him for a moment, leaning against one of the trees. The rough bark felt cold and hard to his touch, grounding him. A shiver ran through him. His uniform was keeping him warm enough, but the lack of sleep was definitely getting to him. And speaking of uniform - he really needed to find something else to wear. A British uniform was not unlike painting a bullseye on his back and traipsing through the next German checkpoint, while singing 'God Save the King'.

Of course Charles hadn't been thinking that hard about it when he'd volunteered for field work, which meant going close to the German lines. All he'd been looking for was the opportunity to go, to see if he could find any hints as to what had happened to Raven.

To think that only two weeks ago, he'd been in Britain, taking care of his job at Bletchley Park. He wasn't even normally the one who dealt with the code cracking, but he was good at it and he took his turns there whenever he could. 

Then government agents had contacted him, asking questions about Raven, about her integrity, about her _loyalty_. He'd felt little in the way of guilt as he'd skimmed their minds, learning the reason for their questions. It had taken that much more of his self control not to show them that he had done so, because the news tore him up from the inside. Raven's unit had been intercepted. They might not have spoken much of what either of them were doing - as most of it was secret as hell, but the intel was that her unit had been taken.

At first he'd been relieved, as he extracted the information. Raven was missing, no body found. And as morbid as it may sound, if she'd been dead, she'd have reverted to her true form and there would have been no mistake there, it wouldn't have been missing in the intel. So she was still alive. Not to mention, he liked to think that he'd feel it if she actually died. 

They kept at it, kept digging into Raven's and his pasts and Charles dutifully answered the questions. They had to ask those questions, even if they made Charles want to rave and rant that his sister was many things, but a traitor was not one. He answered the same questions over and over again, because he was her brother, because she'd gone missing, because, because because - 

Could she have turned on them? Charles had fought the urge to deck the man after he was asked that question the first time. He had told him 'no'. They all heard what happened to their kind if they fell into Nazi hands. Getting killed would be merciful compared to the rumours of experimentation. No way in hell would she turn on them.

After the night of questions, Charles had done what he'd sworn he'd never do again. He'd reached inside the man's mind and set a process in motion. He'd spent the next couple of days on barely any sleep, meeting with his own bosses, Raven's bosses, people in power and a week and a half later, here he was, stumbling through frozen fields in a war torn France. Wearing a British medic's uniform, because he was an idiot and obviously hadn't thought this through.

London was… partly in ruins. With Britain and the Third Reich on fairly even ground power wise and the latter busy on several front lines, the bomb raids didn't happen often anymore, and while some rebuilding was going on, most resources were channelled into the war effort, into defending the borders, into developing new weapons. At least that was what they told the public.

The public, which kept going. On the one hand, they were generations of hardy people, who could live on little and who would fight tooth and nail against the enemy, even when huddling in the corner like a trapped animal. And people like Raven and himself did what they could to help, to protect. Charles had met a few mutants and the ones whose powers could be used in the defense of the country, well, they would do whatever they could to keep the country safe.

On the other hand, everyone was slowly nearing their collective breaking point. There were still border skirmishes, but all out war, there hadn't been all that much off since the mid 40s. Resources were in general scarce, and eventually the Nazis would win, no doubt about it. They were managing to reach into other parts of the world, while Britain had been burned by the US, only managing to hold parts of Europe with the help of local militia and resistance groups.

The only reason they were still going strong were the volunteers, the troops who were willing to leave their countries of origin to fight on the side of the British.

French soldiers, Belgian, Scandinavian, some Americans, Canadians and Australians. Mixed in with Spaniards, Portuguese - anyone who could not fight on home soil, but refused to cede their freedom to the Jerrys.

London was a melting pot of nationalities as people shipped through the city to get to and from the borders of No Man's Land. The British Channel was fiercely protected by troops, ships and subs to make sure nothing interfered with the transport of troops and supplies.

Somewhere in France, across a frozen field, Charles ran to save his life. Two weeks earlier felt like a lifetime; Britain felt like a world away.

The interrogation had been bad enough, but Charles had been privy to their thoughts. He was listed as an empath, his own choice from when he'd manifested. Trusting people with his power had never been in the cards. The close proximity to the agents had meant he'd picked up more than enough. They feared that Raven could be used against them. She had been deeply enough submerged in the agency to know a lot of things, not to mention a shapeshifter in the hands of the Nazi was a frightening thought.

Charles had told them again and again that she would never willingly work for the enemy.

They had told him that she might not be given a choice. In Britain mutants had rights, could say no to be used for their powers. They were encouraged to enlist, especially if they had gifts that might be of use. The Third Reich was less lenient. The stories of the brainwashing and torture of those who opposed the Reich were legendary and every mutant had heard of it, knew for a fact that while life was hard in Britain, it was a damned sight safer and consensual than life behind the German lines.

Still, Charles knew that the agency had pushed Raven for more. Not that she'd minded. She was young - in his eyes far too young to be part of a war. Then again, they all had had to grow up faster than normal, childhood dreams were set aside for the dark and bleak of war time. Of depression, rationing, horror stories, raids, attacks, bombings, dead and dying people.

Raven had jumped at the opportunity to help - or that was how she'd put it to Charles. He didn't have to read her thoughts to know that it was also the excitement of joining the ranks of spies and using her gift for a good cause. He worried constantly that she would get herself into trouble she wouldn't be able to get out of. And then it had happened. She had gone missing and Charles had felt as if his whole world had imploded, leaving him the scared, little boy, in the eye of the storm.

He'd promised to help her.

He'd promised to keep her safe.

He'd promised her when the news of Cain's death behind enemy lines, that they would stay together and keep each other safe.

How could he not set the wheels in motion and go on a search for her? He was a bit fuzzy on what he might be able to do that the agency couldn't, but he had to do _something_. He had promised her...

This something was right now keeping ahead of enemy soldiers who would kill him at best, torture him at worst. If they were to find out what he was, that he was a mutant, he'd be taken in and he might not get a chance to find Raven.

Whatever happened, he had to keep going. There was, off in the distance - almost too far for his tired mind to grasp - the hulking shadow of a barn. It looked halfway collapsed, but it might just be enough to provide him with shelter and hide him from the eyes of the Germans. At least for long enough that he could rest. And plan. Plan _something_.

Charles stumbled and fell, his cold hands slamming against the hard ground, pain stinging through his palms. Panting he forced himself up on hands and knees, turning his head to see what had tripped him.

A body. And if he hadn't been able to feel the mind still sluggishly working, he'd have thought it was a dead one. What made him catch his breath for a moment, when the moon illuminated the shape, were the clothes the man was wearing. A uniform.

A German uniform.

Before he could even think about it, Charles had pulled his gun and crouched down by the man's head. He put the cold barrel of it against his head and held his breath for a moment. His breathing hitched when he caught the slowly winding thoughts of the unconscious man. While he heard German words in there, there were plenty of other languages. Enough for Charles to dig a little deeper into the unconscious mind. And then he fell down it, at first almost drowning in a tempest of images and emotions.


	2. Chapter 2

Erik had misjudged the stupidity of the soldiers. He'd also thought himself powerful enough to fight them off, to deflect their bullets. Unfortunately there had been too many of them and he'd taken a hit as he'd tried to escape. The impact had caused him to stumble down an incline, falling and rolling, hitting his head on a rock.

The next moments were… fuzzy. His body was used to being pushed beyond pain, even when he wasn't fully paying attention. He was up and running, into the night, into the darkness, sticking to shadows and being thankful that the moon kept slipping behind clouds.

It had been going so well, up until the moment he'd slipped and they'd realized something was off. He'd only meant to get into the camp to mess with them and sabotage their vehicles. Had hoped that the rumours he had heard were true. That one of the officers in the camp had intel worth taking. Worth torturing them for. Now he was on the run from them, wounded, one shot wound and even worse, a head wound. His eyesight was swimming, his breath short, his side hurting like hell. He could feel the warmth of blood seeping from the wound, soaking his clothes. He would never forgive himself if he died wearing a damned Nazi uniform.

Not that he was going to let himself die, he thought as he fought to keep his head clear enough to get away from the soldiers. He still had to find Schmidt, still had to make the man pay for what he'd done to Erik's mother, what he'd done to _Erik_. All the pain and suffering Erik had witnessed happening to others like himself. If anyone showed any gifts out of the ordinary, Schmidt would take them in, torture them, figure out what made them tick - and if they were of no use, he'd send them to the chambers.

Erik had been lucky and had escaped. Not a day went by where he didn't let the anger at Schmidt fuel his quest. The hatred cultivated by the man himself, the hatred that Erik felt for him, for the pain he'd inflicted on others, but most of all, the pain he'd put Erik through.

He had no idea how long he was running for. All he could focus on was moving forward, into the dark of night that would offer him the cover he needed. Hopefully they would lose the urge to follow him. As worn and tired as Erik was, he knew that the esprit de corps of the Nazi soldiers and the people following them was lacking. Years and years of war and political tension had made sure that few people were willing to go all out in a chase where they probably thought he'd end up dead on his own anyway.

It might not be too far from the truth, Erik thought through the fog of pain and blood loss. Stumbling up and down grassy hills, covered with frost and snow, he probably wouldn't last through the night if he didn't find somewhere to stay. He kept telling himself that he'd gone through worse, that getting shot and stumbling through frozen fields would not be where he'd end his life.

He'd be damned if he was going to go out any other way than by taking Klaus Schmidt with him to the deepest part of hell.

Unfortunately, even in his less than focused state, Erik could tell that his vision was quickly narrowing, darkness closing in around him in a way that was not natural, eventually leaving his vision down to a pin point as he stumbled forward, the hard ground rising up to meet him as darkness completely shut him down -

An undefinable time later, he felt something, something warm and alien and he latched onto it, like a drowning man.

* * *

The churning black water closed in around Charles, filling his lungs as he tried to scream. The heavy sound of a drum beat filled his ears until he was sure his eardrums would burst.

Until he realized that he wasn't physically there. That he wasn't physically in danger. Well, maybe he was, because Charles knew better than most that what happened in the mind could very well overwrite the body and trick it into believing what was happening was real.

Kurt had taught him that. Kurt's death, more precisely.

Using every little trick in his book, Charles focused towards his own center, focused on getting to the core of himself to stabilize the chaotic madness around him. He was about to extract himself, feeling more than a little unsettled that he had been sucked into another mind so easily, had so easily lost his footing when the sense of urgency hit him. The black water-like feel of the mind suddenly felt more like metal, trying to weigh him down.

Memories of pain, anger, rage, despair and determination rolled around him, vying for his attention, trying to overwhelm him.

"Max!" he gasped out, the real world, the coldness of the winter night, the chill bite of the air returning around him.

"Not… Not Max," he mumbled to himself. "Max is dead, lost."

Something else intruded on him and Charles felt more than saw the man in front of them. He blindly cradled the fallen not-Max to his chest, pointing the gun at the furious vortex, blindly pulling the trigger.

The sound of impact and the smell of gunsmoke was all he could focus on at first, then he blinked a couple of times and the man was gone. Maybe he hadn't been there at all? Charles was beginning to wonder if he could trust his senses with the unconscious man in his lap still clinging to his mind.

There were voices somewhere behind him and Charles suddenly realized that he was still very much out in the open. He stared down at the unconscious man. Maybe his name _was_ Max, because that was all Charles had picked up, even if he'd gotten the impression that whoever Max had been was no more. He shivered and not entirely because of the cold.

He couldn't very well leave Max to his own, now could he? Such an interesting mind, and so out of place with the uniform. Charles gave it a moment and huffed out a laugh, his breath white in the air. It wasn't as if Charles' uniform really covered who and what he was. His knowledge of field medicine was limited to the basics that they had all been taught.

No, he was first and foremost a codebreaker and strategist - not exactly possessing the skills of a field medic. It was more than possible that this man was the same - very much not what the uniform suggested.

This was how Charles found himself dragging a half-dead guy, in an enemy uniform, across the frozen ground to the old ruin of a barn he could only just make out in the dark.

Trying to get the guy to help was impossible, but Charles felt the adrenaline kicking through him. He still wondered on a few occasions if he'd dreamed up the madman who'd been staring at him, the one he was pretty sure he'd shot.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. If the soldiers had heard the shots, surely they would come looking for him, and find both Max and himself. It became a litany as Charles stumbled under the added weight of another body, trying to see by moonlight that came and went as a thicker cloud cover came in. And of course it started snowing.

By the time they stumbled through the rotting door of the barn, Charles was ready to just give up. His hair was full of snow, slowly melting and running down his neck and under his shirt.

Charles let Max slide to the ground, trying to catch his breath as he took a look around. The barn wasn't as bad off as he'd thought at first. It was obvious that it was no longer in use, but there was still more roof and cover than he'd dared hope for. He checked outside and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that the snow was actually covering up their tracks quickly. He thought for a moment he heard screams off in the distance, but he was too tired to stretch his gift all that far, and from what he could tell, they were alone. Where the soldiers had gone off to, he had no idea, but as long a they weren't following them, he'd take what he could get.

A groan pulled him back to his new companion. Charles stared at him, then shook his head and knelt next to him, making sure he was okay. Charles dragged him into a corner where it was fairly dark, reached out to see if he could feel anyone near. When he sensed no one, he fished his torch out of his backpack. He quickly checked the head wound and was glad to see that the bleeding had stopped. Undoing the uniform was a bit of a challenge, and he had to put down the torch to do so. It didn't exactly help that his fingers were frozen and he was beginning to feel the lack of adrenalin. His body ached and rest was most definitely needed.

Not that he could do so just yet. Charles pulled out the medkit he had with him, setting it to the side. Then he turned to his patient. He still couldn't feel him waking up, and there was no way for him to tell if the guy had a concussion or was in any way too damaged to save.

He still wondered if he should, but the bits and pieces that he _had_ caught from the man's mind, had been intriguing and not at all what he'd expected.

Undoing the uniform was one thing, getting the jacket _off_ the man was nearly impossible. Finally he got the jacket and shirt off so he could check the bleeding that had coloured the side of the man's chest. Max. Or not-Max. Charles didn't really care much about names at that very moment.

Charles worked as quickly as he could. As far as he could tell, the wound was superficial, leaving the flesh serrated but thankfully the bullet hadn't gone into the body. Didn't mean, combined with the head wound, that the guy would survive the night.

Something caught his eye as he tried to get the shirt back on. Something on the lower arm. Charles pushed the sleeve up and inhaled sharply in surprise.

The number on the man's arm... Charles had seen those before. The kind of tattoo that spoke louder than words. This guy had at some point been in one of the concentration camps. The question was what for? Jewish? Political? Romani? Gay? Mutant? There were far too many reasons anyone could end up in the camps. The numbers stared back at him and Charles quickly got the man dressed again.

There was a bit of fever, but otherwise, Charles was fairly sure it was still the hit to the head that kept the man down and out. He checked the head wound a little more thoroughly. The bleeding had definitely stopped, but one way or another, it didn't seem the man was waking up anytime soon. And even if he did, Charles wasn't sure how to explain why he'd saved him.

All he could do for now, was wait for daylight, so he could check the guy again. Go out and see if he could figure out where exactly he was. And there was no other option than to huddle for warmth. Charles unstrapped the blanket that was rolled up in his field kit. Not much, but it would have to do. There was still some straw left, blown into the corner. It didn't smell too mildewy and Charles hoped it would do for them a he wrapped them up in his blanket, settling in for a night where he knew he wouldn't get much sleep.

Once or twice, in the early hours of the morning, he was woken up by the presence of the other man. Every time, Charles felt guilty about quieting the man's mind and telling him to rest, go back to sleep. To not strain himself, that he was safe. Everything was alright, no need to worry.

Although Charles tried to keep an eye out for anyone approaching the barn, he finally succumbed to the need to rest. Fitfully, but rest nevertheless. It did, however, also mean he woke up to the business end of a gun, the smell of cigar smoke and the distinct impression he'd screwed up.


	3. Chapter 3

The three men surrounding them were silent at first, and it took a moment for Charles to go from sleepy to wide awake, taking in their uniforms. Strangest thing, though. He was pretty sure there were American markings on two of them, while the last was definitely a British style uniform.

Reaching out with his mind, he realized that they all spoke English, thought in English, so maybe he wasn't in as deep trouble as he'd thought at first.

Of course this was the moment his unconscious acquaintance groaned and muttered something distinctly German.

The barrels of the guns had been dropping a little, but at that very moment, they all came up in one synchronized fluid movement.

Charles slowly put his hands up, trying to keep his breathing under control. It wouldn't do to make any sudden moves, to give them any cause to shoot him. Or Max.

One of the soldiers, a black guy, stepped forward and spoke to him in German. Charles blinked. Now, he could easily pick the meaning of the question from the guy's mind, but that of course would give him a whole new set of problems.

"Are you actually wearing that uniform knowing what it is and are you actually stupidly prancing around behind enemy lines - the Jerrys aren't the best shots, but even they can't miss a British uniform," one of them said. 

Charles focused on him and realized he'd been right in judging the uniform. So a Brit and two Americans? Then he realized they were expecting an answer to one question or the other and he shook his head, trying to clear it.

"I'm well aware of what I'm wearing - I lost my unit and well - got lost myself." Charles wasn't sure how much he should tell them. He had not so much lost his unit as slipped away from them.

"And picked up a Jerry on the way?" The British soldier gave him a less than convinced look.

"I almost fell over him - he was injured when I found him," Charles explained. It was the truth after all.

One of the men looked around with a frown. "We need to get going. Monty, slit the throat of the German and we'll take the kid here with us to the camp - the boss can interrogate him."

Charles realized that he might very well lose the man he'd found and while he'd weep for no Nazi soldier, he'd seen enough of the man's mind to know that he couldn't let that happen. There were things in there that had spoken of secrets, of anger towards a common enemy. And while he'd been sleeping, he was fairly sure he'd picked up more bits and pieces. Had witnessed fighting German soldier, taking machines apart and causing explosions. There was definitely more to the man in the German uniform than a simple enemy soldier.

"I think," Charles began, the men turning to look at him, though 'Monty' already had a knife out. "I got the distinct impression from the things he muttered that he has no love for our enemy. And he's got a tattoo from one of the camps on his arm."

All three men stopped. No one had taken part in this rotten war without knowing about the camps. Without having heard how bad things were there. How anyone opposing the Reich would be doomed to those hellholes.

"We'll take him back for interrogation, then," the American said, chewing on a nearly burned out cigar.

Charles had another look at them when they stepped outside, the cool morning light aiding his sight. Monty really was wearing a British uniform, the American with cigar, who seemed to be in charge, was, of all things, wearing a bowler hat. The last guy, the one who'd spoken German to him, looked to be dressed more in a standard American uniform.

As it was, Charles wondered what the hell he'd gotten himself into and how to get away from them the quickest. He still had to find Raven.

Charles was all too aware of the three men watching him with a wary eye, but he thought, for the moment, he would go along. Maybe they could and would help Max. And maybe, if Charles had the time, he'd get to speak with him. As much as Charles felt the urgency of finding Raven, he was also the eternal scientist. Curiosity would probably kill him, eventually. Max's mind had been incredible, and Charles, if he was being honest, really wanted to experience it again.

Of course he'd have to find a way of getting away from the soldiers and the boss they had mentioned. If there weren't too many people in the camp they were being taken to, he was fairly sure he could influence them enough to escape.

The walk to the camp felt like it took ages. The cool morning air didn't warm much, and Charles wondered if the winter would ever end. The winters could be cold and biting, but with the wariness of years of war, it tended to drain people of the urge to go on, seemed to leech the energy and will to live from them.

Charles stumbled and found his footing again, trying to watch the ground for unevenness, rocks and tree roots instead of getting lost in his own mind. When he did look up again, he saw the skeleton of a church. Most of the walls did seem to still be standing, but the roof was gone. As they entered, Charles looked up and realized that there was a cover suspended above their heads, offering a drier place than he'd expected.

"Gentlemen, I see you bring visitors."

Charles turned his head to find a woman staring unflinchingly back at them, hands on her hips. She was dressed in a uniform as well, trousers and a leather jacket.

"Carter," the soldier with the bowler hat greeted. "Howlett was right, there were a couple of idiots in the old barn."

"Thank you, Dum Dum. And I see it's a bit of a mystery," she agreed. "A British medic and a German soldier?"

Dum Dum grinned and shrugged. "Kid says the German guy might have been fighting his own."

"We'll see," Carter replied. "Get him some medical care, and Mr. Jones, don't stray too far, we may yet have need of your language skills."

"Sure thing, boss," the soldier replied, saluting her before heading off with Monty, Max between them.

Charles could feel a few more minds around, but this was most definitely not a large operation.

"Well, perhaps you should introduce yourself," Carter said, after a moment of silence.

"Charles Xavier," Charles said, wondering again how much to share. "I lost my unit and I'm not even sure exactly where I am at the moment." The latter at least wasn't too far off. He'd been a little stupid and just started travelling towards the heart of the Third Reich, not really with much of a plan of how to find Raven. All he'd been doing was occasionally meditating and spending the focus he could muster on trying to feel his way to her. He'd thought once or twice that he'd felt her, very far away, and every time this had been his new direction.

Possibly not the best idea he'd ever had.

"And you went and picked up a German soldier on the way," Carter said without telling him precisely where they were. There was no doubt about the flavour of her thoughts. She didn't trust him one bit.

"I quite literally fell over him," Charles explained. "I wasn't sure what to do about him, but something tells me that he's not what he seems."

"Now, Mr. Xavier," Carter said with a sigh, gesturing for him to sit down on one of the crates behind him. "Sit down before you fall down. And let's try this again. I'm no beginner in this game and I get the feeling you're not being quite honest with me."

Charles frowned. He reached out with his gift and felt something about her mind that made him pull back immediately. 

"You are one of the gifted, are you not?" She asked without any judgement to her tone.

Charles realized what he'd felt was her shielding her thoughts. He was pretty sure he could get through the shields, but it would take energy he didn't have. He stared at her in silence for a moment. Could he risk telling the truth?

"I'm not really a medic," Charles said quietly. "I work at Bletchley Park - my sister has gone missing somewhere behind enemy lines. She's all I have," he added.

Carter stared at him for a moment, a stern setting to her red lips.

"I am a telepath," he continued, "not strong, but strong enough to get by."

"Your sister?" Carter asked curiously.

"Shapeshifter - she works for the British government - and she's missing," Charles admitted, sighing as he felt every bit of tiredness bleed into his bones. "She's all the family I have left - our brother has been missing in action since 1949 and while I believe he's dead, I can't believe that Raven is. I have to get her back if she's still alive."

"You know as well as I do, Xavier, that gifted people end up in bad places if the Nazi get them," Carter said, sitting down on another crate. She gave Dum Dum a nod. The man disappeared, but Charles took it as a sign that she might trust him enough.

"I know - it's why I have to find her." Charles sighed deeply.

"Do you know where she was heading - where she disappeared?" Carter asked.

"They were headed for Berlin - infiltration," Charles admitted.

Carter's frown returned. "I think you know I can't let you run after her - if you work at Bletchley, imagine what secrets they could get from you - and they won't ask politely."

Charles nodded. He wasn't an idiot. He'd just have to sneak away later.

Dum Dum returned with a thermo and two chipped mugs. He set both down on the crate Carter was sitting on.

Carter smiled at him. "Now, Mr. Xavier, how does a cup of tea sound?"

A laugh escaped Charles. "Like the best offer I've had in ages."

"And then tell me about the man we found you with - I take it you read his mind or at least his intentions?"

Charles stared at her. He found her straight forward no nonsense attitude refreshing. That she'd expected him to- "I don't normally go digging where I'm not wanted," Charles replied.

"It's war, Mr. Xavier, please," Carter said, raising an eyebrow at him. "I know the British stand on forceful use of mutations, but don't tell me you wouldn't, at least for your own safety, scan a person if you could."

Charles huffed a laugh and accepted the cup of tea she handed him. It wasn't half as bad as he'd expected. Then again, he hadn't expected to run into anything as civilized as this.

"So, our guest next door," Carter prompted. "What's the story."

"Keep in mind that I am not that strong a telepath," Charles warned her. Possibly, he could have dug out more, but ever since Kurt, he'd been reluctant to push himself at the expense of others. Friend or foe. "And the man is unconscious - there is only so much I can lift from a mind in that state."

Carter nodded slowly. "But you did see enough to vouch for him."

Charles nodded. "I kept getting the impression that he had no love lost for the Third Reich. I only got impressions and emotions, images. None of them were lenient towards the Nazi regime."

"Well, there are people who fight on our side, after all," Carter said with a small smile. "The war is slowly killing everyone and eventually something will have to give. More and more local resistance cells pop up. We do what we can to support them." She paused and sipped from her own tea, then put it down and met Charles' gaze. "The question now is what we do with him and what we do with you. We can't drag a civilian around with us, and I don't have the manpower to send you back to the coast - unless Howlett turns up again - and God knows that man does whatever he wants."

Charles caught a mental image from her and frowned. There was something familiar about it, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "I'll do what I can to be of the least burden to you," he promised. And he would. He had every intention of being out of their hair as soon as possible. He made sure that the intrusion as he entered her mind wasn't noticeable. All he did was suggest that of course she could trust Charles to not run off at the very first option.

* * *

Charles spent the rest of the day getting acquainted with what he quickly realized were the famed Howling Commandos. He'd deciphered enough messages mentioning them that he recognized the names. These were actually the people who had fought side by side with Captain America. Charles had to wonder what the war might have looked like if the man hadn't gone missing. Although at least he'd taken a huge chunk of HYDRA with him. The Third Reich was bad enough - mixed with HYDRA; the war reports had been even worse.

Of course, the past half year, the reports had been bad enough on their own. Charles had seen some of them as he'd deciphered them and it seemed times were getting harder still, the stories of horrors done to the public and specifically to anyone deemed different from what the Führer considered 'right'.

Hitler had an obsession with the otherworldly and occult, his right hand man, risen to fame after Hydra's fall, Klaus Schmidt, had fed this and if the reports were to be believed he was a sadistic piece of work, possibly worse than the Reich's dictator himself.

However, even considering the blow the Captain and the Howling Commandos had dealt HYDRA, the Nazi regime still held strong. Maybe it would have been easier if at that point, the American government hadn't decided to pull back, to focus on its own struggles. As it was, maybe they should be glad that at least volunteers were still coming through, enough to keep the ranks of Britain and its allies afloat.

Charles caught himself wondering if maybe they would always be at war. Or this in between thing. There were still fights, but mostly it was skirmishes around less than defined borders. With local resistance cells doing what they could to make things harder for the German troops.

Politicians were past bartering and it had become a war of stubbornness. While the people, German as well as the rest of Europe, grew weaker, resources becoming harder to come by.

Not that Charles would ever get involved in that sort of politics. All he knew were the consequences, all he could see was that people suffered. It was all he could _feel_ sometimes.

It was one of the reasons why he had such a heavy focus on Raven. Cain had gone missing years before, somewhere deep in Europe. The intel was, as far as he had been able to find out, that the whole unit had been decimated. Cain's disappearance was what had gotten Charles to join Bletchley Park when he'd had the offer (and it had taken little 'prompting' from him to get to that point). It had also been the reason that Raven had insisted on taking part as well, although it had caused the biggest row between the two of them, ever.

They both felt the empty space after Cain - especially after their mother had drunk herself to death and Kurt had … died. Charles sometimes wondered if they had been better off if Brian Xavier hadn't moved to Britain and Sharon hadn't remarried after his death.

Of course if she hadn't, it'd just have been Charles and Raven - no Cain, and Charles wasn't quite ready to accept that. Even if without Kurt, Charles, Cain and Raven would have been spared the horrors of their childhood.

Charles shook himself from his dark thoughts. He had to focus on finding a way out of the place. Of course, if he was smart, he would try to find something else to wear, but his getaway was more important. But Montgomery, the English member of the group had been right in questioning Charles' smarts when it came to running around behind the enemy lines wearing the equivalent of a bullseye.

He was, for a moment, torn between the idea of staying, to find out more about Max, but Raven was first on his list of importance. As it was, Charles focused on finding a way to get out of the camp when it became darker. He wouldn't have to wait all that long, dark fell early in the winter and he could only hope that the moon would offer enough light for him to see by, but not enough for him to be caught.

Night fell, and Charles sat with some of the group, a little sad that he would have to cheat his way out of their care. He could see why they would not want him to fall into enemy hands, but he had to look for Raven. No one else would do so, no one else would search for her, just as no one else would search for _him_ if he went missing.

Feeling a little guilty, Charles employed a little mental pressure to make Jones look the other way as he slipped out. The chill of the night bit into his skin, but Charles pulled his jacket closer around him and continued North East of the camp. He'd have to make use of his gift when he got closer to Berlin. Too bad he did not have Jones' ability with languages. Language was no barrier when it came to the mind, but Charles wasn't fond of the idea of digging into anyone's mind without their consent.

However, to find Raven, he knew he'd have to sacrifice some of his ethics. She was by far more important than the rules he'd set himself.

Unfortunately for Charles, he only managed a few hundred yards, before someone grabbed the back of his jacket, dragging him forcibly back. He nearly screamed at the touch. He hadn't felt anything, hadn't expected anyone of the camp's inhabitants to follow him. And they were all still back at the camp, he could tell. So who the hell was that dragging him back by the scruff of the neck?

Charles managed to twist a little to catch sight of a man. Short, muscular and muttering under his breath. Amazingly, Charles couldn't grasp his mind. He could barely feel it. Though the muttered "What the hell do they expect, I can't play babysitter for a stupid kid, who should probably know better."

"Argh, excuse me," Charles panted, trying to find his feet under him. He felt it was unnecessary to be so forceful. Really. The guy's mutterings, the feral look of his face and eyes made it click to Charles as he was dragged through the camp and into the old church, deposited at Carter's feet.

"I shot you?!" Charles said. He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but he was pretty sure-

"Yeah, good thing you can't aim worth shit and I can take it."

Charles stared up at the man, barely noticing that Carter was giving him the stink eye. Dark uniform, messy hair and sideburns, and eyes that felt like they were looking straight into Charles' soul.

"I thought we'd reached an agreement, Mr. Xavier," Carter said, and Charles was fairly sure she could give anyone a major guilt trip. "I already told you we couldn't let you go."

"She's my sister, no one else is going to look for her." Charles finally met her eyes. "She'd do the same for me - we're all we have left."

Carter eyed him warily. "Mr. Xavier, if I let you go, how far do you think you would get? You don't speak the language well enough and Berlin is a long way away. And even if you get there, what do you expect you'll be able to do once there?"

Charles opened his mouth to disagree, to argue, to do anything, but the flare of an enticing mind made him turn his head and stare at the entrance.


	4. Chapter 4

Erik had no idea where he was when he started to come to. However, he hadn't survived for as long as he had, hadn't survived _Schmidt_ , without learning a thing or two. Regaining consciousness, he kept his eyes closed, trying to take in his surrounding before opening them and giving away to anyone that he was awake.

He was laying on something that felt a lot like a field bed. There was metal in it, but not much. There were instruments near him that made his heart speed up, but none of them were in use, none of them were being held by someone about to do him harm.

There were weapons nearby, not moving much, but obviously being held by guards. He tried to get an idea of the shape of the guns. Not standard Nazi equipment. He was fairly sure of that.

Erik chanced opening his eyes enough to get a quick look. There was no one near him, and he took another moment to try to remember what had happened. He remembered escaping the German soldiers, remembered feeling himself losing focus as his head wound got to him.

He remembered a voice in his mind, but then again, he'd been pretty much out of it. He could tell he'd been tended to, that his wounds had been dressed, probably cleaned as well. And done well. Which would mean someone who had experience.

"Ich weiss das Sie aufgewacht sind," an accented voice said.

Erik gambled. English accent, he was fairly sure. "My eyes are open, of course I'm awake," he replied, his throat dry and sore. He didn't make a habit out of speaking with people, but the enemy of one's enemy and so on.

"Oh, you speak English."

Erik grinned mirthlessly. "Yeah." He'd spent time with a wounded English soldier a few years earlier. This man wasn't English, Erik was fairly sure of this. "American?" he asked.

"Yeah, got a problem with that?"

Erik snorted. "Nah, not unless you intend to have a problem with me."

"Oh boy, we have a cheeky bastard here," the man muttered and stepped into Erik's line of sight.

His dark skin lend more shadows to his face in the dim light, making his facial expression harder to read. However, his body language was fairly relaxed. He probably thought Erik wasn't dangerous in the state he was in.

Erik had killed a lot of people who had underestimated him.

"I think if you're up to it, our leader would like a word with you - we picked you up in an old barn along with a British guy."

Erik frowned. "I'm pretty sure I have no idea what you're talking about." And he felt adrenaline surge through him. He really had no idea what had happened since he'd lost consciousness, but he was pretty damned sure he'd been alone.

"Kid said he'd come across you out for the count," the soldier said. "You able to stand on your own two feet, or do you want me to bring the boss to your bedside?"

Erik barred his teeth in a mirthless grin. "I've been worse," he muttered. And it wasn't a lie. They had obviously cleaned and dressed his wounds and he'd rested because while his body ached, as well as his head, he still felt more clear headed than he'd expected.

"Now that I believe," the guy grinned. "Gabe Jones at your service - and I can't wait to hear what the hell you were doing in a German uniform - somehow I don't think you like them any more than we do."

Erik cocked his head to the side. Ah, always so willing to trust someone who might oppose the enemy then. Which he did, but Erik was on no one's side but his own. Not that he was stupid enough to ignore any help he might be able to get.

Especially not a helping hand that might offer him the possibility of getting some weapons.

"Maybe I should see this boss of yours," he said evenly as he sat up, swinging his feet over the edge of the field bed. His body protested, but Erik was so used to ignoring the pains and twinges, and quite frankly, he wasn't feeling as bad as he'd expected.

He was still in the uniform trousers, but the shirt was definitely a different one. For one thing, he hadn't bled on this one, he noticed, with some amusement. Jones didn't look all too impressed, but Erik would take what he could get. "Boots?"

Jones pointed to the left of the field bed with his gun.

Erik breathed shallowly as he leaned down to get the boots, sweating by the time he managed to get them on. At least Jones hadn't moved all the while, a neutral look on his face.

Wrapping the blanket that had been covering him around his shoulder in lieu of a jacket, Erik nodded to Jones.

Erik was led through a fairly dark camp. Here and there he noticed shadows, but no one came close enough for him to see them clearly. He wished he was more clear headed because he hadn't survived all these years by walking blindfolded into any situation. However, he was fairly busy just staying on his feet and shuffling after Jones as the man walked towards a part of the old ruin that was covered, a little light escaping as Jones stopped and held the flap of the cover aside for Erik to pass inside.

Erik felt a brush of something against his mind and instantly threw up every defence he had. He'd been subjected to Schmidt's pet telepath when he'd been younger. It had been one of those encounters he'd genuinely not thought he'd be able to walk away from. This was nothing like the cold spikes of her mind digging into his, but there was no doubt he was dealing with a telepath.

Three people turned to look at him as he staggered through the opening. Erik instantly weighed each and everyone of them with a quick look. Man, short, but strong looking - broad and muscular. Woman - dressed in a uniform, held herself like a fighter - probably just as dangerous as the man. The third one was barely out of his teens, if Erik judged him right. British uniform, medic - and- Yes. "Stay out of my head," Erik growled at him.

"Goodness, it speaks," the woman muttered, her lips twisted into a mock smile. "How nice of you to join us. Mr….?"

Erik looked at her warily. "Erik."

"Mr. Erik," she said, looking like she didn't quite believe him. "Is there a last name to go with that?"

Taking a moment to judge how much he could share, he went for his own name. He did consider, for a split second, using the name he'd taken as an adult, hiding from Schmidt. But Max was dead and buried in the rubble of a burnt out house.

"Lehnsherr." He checked his exit and found Jones standing next to it. Erik felt a little itchy at this, but although he was wounded, he could still use his power to kill - he was in no danger of being taken unaware.

"I'm sorry for reading your mind while you were unconscious," the young man said, gaze soft and curious.

Erik huffed. "Just don't do it again - I'm not particularly fond of your kind."

The man flinched. "I was sure you were gifted, too," he said quietly. "But if you have a problem with mutants-"

"I just don't particularly like telepaths," Erik interrupted gruffly. He didn't quite understand the urge to justify himself to this runt. "Nothing personal," he added with a sharp show of teeth. "I had the displeasure of meeting one a while back and she left a lasting impression on me - and not a good one."

The man nodded, conceding.

"I'm Agent Carter," the woman said, gesturing to the muscular guy. "This is Howlett, and our young friend here is Mr. Xavier. Now, we don't trust easily around here, so I have to ask you what you were doing in a Nazi uniform seeing as I doubt you have any attachment to them."

Erik cocked his head to the side. "I find it easier to infiltrate their camps and headquarters when I look the part."

Agent Carter raised an eyebrow at him. "And you infiltrate their ranks to-?"

"Kill as many as possible and look for leads on Klaus Schmidt." Erik wasn't even going to hide it to these people. They should know of the necessity of culling the enemy.

Xavier looked a little green around the gills, but Agent Carter was eyeing him with a certain respect.

"You don't aim low, do you Mr. Lehnsherr?" she asked. "Hitler's right hand man, no less."

"The man who pulls the puppet's strings," Erik spat.

"No one's ever been able to prove that," Carter argued. "Hitler is still in his seat of power - even if rumours have it that it's all Schmidt's orders."

"Klaus Schmidt works best from behind the curtain - and I intend to cut the strings and kill the puppeteer."

She met his gaze unflinchingly. "Have to admire a man with a cause. And do you have any idea how to get to him?"

"He's currently in Berlin - I intend to get in there and end him." Erik figured a simple plan would be the easiest to go with. Less things to cock up.

"Take me with you."

Everyone turned to look at Charles Xavier, who stood straight, hands fisted at his sides, a gleam of pure stubbornness in his eyes.

* * *

"Excuse me?" Lehnsherr said, at the same time as Howlett laughed out loud.

"I need to get to Berlin, but they won't let me go on my own," Charles said, his voice more steady than he'd imagined he might manage.

"And what do you intend to do when you get to Berlin?" Lehnsherr asked curiously.

Charles took a deep breath and ignored the look Agent Carter shot him. "My sister has gone missing and the last thing I'd heard was that she was somewhere in Berlin."

Lehnsherr just stared at him. "Your sister is missing in the heart of the Third Reich? Is she a telepath as well?"

Charles shook his head. "She's a shapeshifter."

Lehnsherr eyed him for a moment, then shook his head. "Do you know what they do to our kind?" he asked, his tone not unkind.

Swallowing bile, Charles nodded. All too well - the reports were never pleasant to decipher. "All the more reason for me to find her - she is all I have left." He felt like he was repeating this for eternity. It was the only way he could describe their relationship. He loved Raven and having lost Cain, he had sworn he would protect her.

Lehnsherr stared at him for a while and Charles wanted to dive into that mind of his, to find out what he was thinking, what he was plotting. However, he'd never encountered someone with a mind quite like Lehnsherr's. The way he had walled off his mind in a way that Charles would have to fight to get inside it. Intriguing. Besides, he had asked Charles to not look inside his head. For now Charles wasn't going to anger the man by going back on his word.

He had to admit that Lehnsherr cut a striking figure, even with a blanket wrapped around his upper body for warmth. Charles was well aware of his own secrets, of all the little things he found attractive in other people, and even with the dark, menacing attitude, Lehnsherr was pinging more than a few of them.

Now, if he could get the guy to take him along with him to Berlin, and if he could convince Agent Carter to let him go - without Howlett dragging him back by the scruff of his neck - again.

"Schmidt could do a lot of damage if he got ahold of a shapeshifter," Lehnsherr muttered.

"She would never do what he wanted her to," Charles injected. He knew his sister - however, he also knew that she had a mouth on her and if she angered Schmidt…

"She won't have any choice," Lehnsherr bit back. "Schmidt has his ways of making you cooperate. Trust me, I've met him - he's not a nice man."

"It doesn't mean I don't have to find her and help her," Charles argued. And the longer he waited, the greater the risk of her being dead.

Lehnsherr watched him with a speculative gleam to his eyes.

"I can be of help," Charles tried. "I may not be the strongest telepath, but I can get us through where deception or brawn can't."

"This is all good and well," Carter interrupted. "But you don't think we'll let you go into the lion's den, do you, Mr. Xavier?"

"You heard Mr. Lehnsherr," Charles replied. "Schmidt could do a lot of damage if he has Raven - if he could indeed get her to conform."

Carter looked like she'd bitten into something sour, but nodded. "I can't argue with that."

"Lehnsherr," Howlett interrupted. "Would you be willing to drag the kid along with you?"

Charles scarcely dared look at the man. He didn't even bristle at the his choice of words.

"He could be of help, I guess," was the answer, but there was something underneath the voice that told Charles that it was possible Lehnsherr was seeing the potential a lot clearer now.

"I can't condone sending two men out like this," Carter argued.

Howlett huffed out a laugh. "I've heard of you, Lehnsherr, or I'm pretty sure I have. You're the one the Nazis call der Rübezahl."

"I am no mountain spirit," Lehnsherr snorted.

"No, but you trick them and you wreak havoc when you can," Howlett argued. "Agent Carter, I do believe we're looking at the guy who's been sabotaging our enemy for the past year or so."

Carter stared at him, then shook her head.

"Have you never taken the chance that someone might be able to do the right thing?" Charles asked her quietly.

She laughed, no mirth in her voice though. "I once had faith in a man, an unlikely hero." She raised her head and met his eyes. "I was proven right, and he more than proved himself."

Charles didn't dare interrupt, he could feel how torn she was. On the one hand, she wanted to ship him back home as fast as possible, but a tiny part of her wanted to aid him, he was sure of that.

Charles was still weighing his options, considering nudging her the rest of the way, though it would be at the risk of her noticing. He wasn't dealing with some easily influenced soldier. Agent Carter's mind was sharp and he was pretty sure she'd notice something off if he attempted to influence her choice.

Carter made a displeased noise. "I want to say 'no' to you, Mr. Xavier, but I'm very well aware of that I would probably only manage to ship you home to have you run off again, am I correct?"

Inclining his head in agreement, Charles stayed silent.

"And I have no jurisdiction over Mr. Lehnsherr - and if he is indeed partly to thank for the trouble some of the enemy troops have been having lately, then I am not going to stand between him and his trail of destruction." She gave him a firm stare. "As long as he keeps said destruction to the ranks of the enemy, and not ours."

Lehnsherr nodded. "I can normally tell the difference," he said sarcastically. 

Charles knew he was a mutant, but he had to wonder what the man's abilities were. If they were partly to explain that he could tell friend from foe. And Lehnsherr had referred to Raven, Charles and himself as 'their kind'. It would prove interesting, if a bit daunting, to travel with this stern man.

"I have no idea how to phrase this in our reports," Carter muttered, "but we'll figure something out." Turning to the two of them, she continued. "Put together a list of what you would like to take with you - if we can provide it, we will. And Lehnsherr, you take good care of Mr. Xavier - he's a British citizen so we are somewhat responsible for his wellbeing." She shot Charles a stern look. "Even if he insists on running head first into danger."

Lehnsherr shrugged, wincing a little. "I should think something less conspicuous than our current uniforms, possibly some sort of transportation."

"Medical supplies," Charles interrupted, not one to let others plan his trip, even if he felt a surge of hopefulness. He was no longer doing this alone - although of course it all depended on whether or not he could trust Lehnsherr. "You'll need you your dressings changed sometime between here and Berlin."

"You're not really a medic, are you, though?" Lehnsherr asked. A tad condescending, Charles felt.

"No, but I have the basic training we all get." Fuck, he was so in over his head it wasn't even funny. But he refused to give up just now. Not when it looked as if he might still be going to Berlin - might still be allowed to search for Raven. With or without help.

Lehnsherr eyed him as if _he_ was the telepath and had heard Charles' silent admission that he was in over his head.

"Don't give me that look," Charles said, feeling like a little child. "I need to do this."

"We know," Carter said, nodding at Jones. "Find Mr. Dugan and tell him to come here. He can work out a list of things we can offer these gentlemen before they set out on their suicide mission."

Charles felt she might be hitting a little too close to a possible outcome.


	5. Chapter 5

Charles twisted and turned through the night. He slept for about an hour at a time before waking up again. He'd agreed to wait another two days to get what they needed, and to allow Lehnsherr to mend a little before they set off. It wasn't what he'd wanted, nor was it, he got the feeling, what _Lehnsherr_ wanted, but it was the agreement Carter had insisted on, in exchange for aid.

They were getting help, even an old run down truck. Lehnsherr insisted that he could keep it running, even if Dum Dum had warned them it was on its last leg.

Charles felt ...a little bad about leaving these people behind. He quite liked them, and got along very well with the group. Not to mention he was confirmed in his belief that Agent Carter must have some kind of gift as well. She kept a clean ship, her group listened to her, paid attention and if they questioned her her choices, it was never because she was a woman, but because they had constructive input. Mostly they did as they were ordered and they were one of the most eclectically put together teams Charles had ever seen, but they worked like a well oiled machine.

The time he and Lehnsherr spent in the camp, they were bent over maps, checking intel on checkpoints, places they might have to get rid of the truck, where they would have to find other means of transportation. There were a few places where they could intersect with the Nazi built train lines that had originally been constructed to transport resources and troops to the frontlines.

Charles constantly felt impressed by his new partner. He'd gone off half-cocked, he realized this, could admit it to himself. When he looked at how Lehnsherr took note and considered directions and possible access points… Well, Charles could tell he knew what he was talking about. Now, the only thing Charles really had to worry about was whether or not he could trust the man.

Sometimes Lehnsherr would watch him as if he wasn't entirely sure he could trust Charles either. As if he thought Charles might be in his head while he'd promised he wouldn't be. When Lehnsherr repeated this request in his gruff voice, Charles sighed in defeat.

"Really, Mr. Lehnsherr - I told you that I wouldn't read your mind. I'm not that powerful, I'm not going to push myself to get inside your head - and trust me, I can tell you from experience that very few minds are as interesting and full of secrets as people tend to think." He leaned in over the map, aware of how close they were standing.

"I just prefer my privacy," Lehnsherr shot back.

"And I can assure you, you have it," Charles assured him. "Also, I think you have a natural defence against telepathy. Your mind is very quiet to me, no shouting unlike what I get from most other people if I get this close to them." He gestured between them.

"I didn't feel like I had that when I ran into Schmidt's pet telepath," Lehnsherr muttered.

"She probably wasn't as focused on it being consensual," Charles suggested. "Whereas I have my own rules - I do not go where I am not wanted. Mostly it's enough to create an influence by suggestion. If I have to force my way in, bad things happen."

Lehnsherr didn't turn his head, just stared at the map, but he was definitely paying attention. "There's a story there."

"There is, one I'm not sharing. You have your secrets, I have mine. Safe to say that I learned my lesson." Charles fell silent.

"Would you do it again?" Lehnsherr was still studying the map, but he was standing completely still.

"Excuse me?" Charles tried to focus on the map.

"If you were in the very same situation again, same things at risk." Lehnsherr was obviously staring unseeingly at the map now.

Charles took a deep breath. "I want to say no - but deep down, I know if I could go back to that point, I'd probably do the same thing again."

Lehnsherr nodded. "I have many regrets, but there are things in my past, while I would wish for them differently, I would do the same things again."

Charles stayed silent for a while, but it seemed Lehnsherr was strangely enough more relaxed around him after this admission.

Another thing that Charles found peculiar was that Lehnsherr wouldn't tell him or show him what his gift was. As it was, Charles only knew the other man was a mutant because their minds always felt different to his touch - and he'd touched Lehnsherr's for long enough to know for sure.

Of course, when one thought about where Lehnsherr had been, a camp obviously, maybe it wasn't so strange. Anyone different would be dropped in the camps or worse. The rumours about the experimentation facilities - Charles shivered at the thought.

He also didn't allow himself to wonder if that was where Raven was now. Of course he couldn't ignore the risk of this having happened, but he had to hope that if he got to Berlin, he'd either feel here being near, as he'd always heard and felt her the clearest - even more so than Cain. If he couldn't he could only hope they would find information that could help them find her.

Carter checked up on them occasionally, but she mostly left them to their own planning. Dum Dum occasionally came through to drop off one thing or another he had gotten into hishead they might need. A bit of a mother hen, Charles realized very quickly.

Howlett… they didn't see again. Charles would have liked to speak with the man. If Lehnsherr's mind was shielded naturally, it was nothing compared to Howlett's. It was like he wasn't even there. And it would explain why Charles hadn't noticed him when he'd first come across him and Lehnsherr.

Charles also watched the Howling Commandos - alternating between being awed and being a little jealous of the easy companionship these people had with each other. Of course they had known each other for years, fighting a war that had by now become more political than physical. Not that they didn't obviously see their share of run-ins with the German troops. As much as politicians tried to solve things off the board behind closed doors, there were more than enough border skirmishes. Probably, mostly because no one quite agreed on where said borders ran.

"Do you ever wonder if this war will carry on forever?" Charles asked, not as such expecting an answer.

"I don't know," Lehnsherr replied, stopping in his note taking. "I don't really remember that much from before the war. I never allowed myself to think further than finding Schmidt and putting a stop to him."

Charles wondered if Lehnsherr would ever feel anything but emptiness if he did manage to get Schmidt. Then it struck him. Maybe the man didn't expect to survive it. It would hold true to the bits and pieces he'd learned about him so far.

They had conversations like this, on and off until the day they had planned to set out. Of course plans made were not always plans followed.

* * *

Erik felt the adrenaline overwriting his aches and pains. The closer they came to the day of departure, the more restless he became. Of course he did what he could to not show this outwardly, and he had to wonder if Xavier was keeping to his side of the bargain. He almost wanted to believe it because the man seemed unaware of Erik's state of mind.

The group he had found himself among was… while Erik didn't trust anyone, he allowed himself to at least have a flicker of a hope that they could further his cause, help him onwards. They had, all of them, including Xavier, probably saved his life. He had been unconscious and without them, the soldiers would have found him - and even if they had not, he would have died from hypothermia.

However, Erik had learned a long time ago to not dwell on the goodwill of other people. Most would, eventually, turn on him or become a liability. Or die.

As they were getting ready for departure, Erik, always keeping his attention on any unfamiliar metal in the area, stopped two steps from their truck, staring into the skies. Something was tickling his attention. Not close enough for him to tell exactly what it was, but getting closer with every moment.

"Mr. Lehnsherr?" Xavier stepped up next to him, watching him curiously. "Is something wrong?"

"Not sure," Erik said. Then he realized what it was he was feeling. "There's an aeroplane coming in."

Monty, who had just come over to leave yet another box of canned stuff for them to pack, stared at him. "How can you tell?" he asked.

Erik just raised an eyebrow at him. He wasn't about to tell any of them what he could do. "Just trust me when I say there's a plane coming in."

Monty stared at him for a moment, then nodded and headed off. A moment later Carter joined them and Erik expected her to doubt him as well. He was proven wrong, though.

"You have certain skills, Mr. Lehnsherr," Carter said with a quirk of her lips, though there was nothing about her tone of voice that set off any alarm bells with Erik. This didn't mean he wasn't careful about how much he shared with these people.

"I've learned to be wary of any approaching planes or vehicles," Erik admitted, ignoring that Xavier was watching him curiously. The fact that the young man was a mutant only elevated him slightly in Erik's view. He could still prove to be a liability. Though one Erik was willing to risk if it meant gaining help.

"Considering where you cut your trade," Carter said drily, "that is a commendable stand in general." She gestured at the sky where Erik could hear the engine now. "Our side have people who have access to planes as well, we use them for transport of supplies, mostly."

Erik looked up into the sky and watched the small plane coming in for landing. It didn't quite look like any model he'd seen before, and he was fairly sure it had been modified more than once. "We should get going," he said in a low voice, mostly aimed at Xavier. The longer they stayed in one place, the more vulnerable they were.

"At least wait until Howard can debrief," Carter cut in. "If he has any intel that might aid you, then you will want to hear that before leaving."

Erik stared at her. More intel was never a bad thing, but if they had to wait for it…

"I would defer to Mr. Lehnsherr's expertise here," Xavier said slowly, and Erik turned to find him watching him with a bit of a frown. "Time is of the essence if I am to find my sister."

Erik nodded, then turned to Carter.

She sighed and shook her head. "At least let me check if there are any specific troop movements that Howard might know of that could cause you trouble."

Erik huffed, thought about it for a moment, though even he wasn't stupid enough to say no to the latest information that might help them stay alive. He nodded quickly. "But we delay only long enough for you to get the necessary intel."

Carter shot him a calculating look, then nodded. The plane flew over them at a low altitude and the three of them watched as it banked and came around to land on the uneven ground of the frozen field.

The engine sputtered a few times and then switched off. The door to the plane opened and a man jumped down to land on the frozen ground. Erik shot a quick look at Carter who looked almost indulgently at the man who made his way towards them.

"Taking in strays again, Peggy?" the man asked, eyeing first Xavier, then Erik himself. The superficial look of boredom on his face fell and he looked back at Xavier. "Brian?"

Xavier looked taken aback. "I'm sorry," he began.

"Charles!? Is that you?"

Erik twitched for some odd reason he didn't want to investigate too deeply as the newcomer stalked towards Xavier.

"Uncle Howard?" Xavier sounded more than a little unsure of himself - not at all how Erik had come to know him over the past few days. Young yes, but like most children of the war, not a child anymore.

Uncle Howard embraced Xavier and Erik glanced around, noticing that everyone around them were staring in surprise at the two men. Obviously no one else had seen this coming either. 

"Howard?" Carter wasn't making any moves, simply watching them with an arched eyebrow, hand on her hip. "Care to explain?"

Howard finally let go of Xavier, who looked more than a little ruffled. "This is the son of an old friend of mine - I haven't seen him since…" Howard trailed off.

"Five, I was five the last time we met," Xavier said quietly. 

Erik didn't miss the look of sadness flickering across his face.

Howard drew a deep breath. "Sorry about that, kiddo," he said, the cold air white as he exhaled heavily. "I wanted to come to Brian's funeral, but-"

"Don't worry, Uncle Howard," Xavier said, eyes turned to the ground for a moment, before looking back up at him. "A lot has happened since then."

"I should think so!" Howard exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing over here?"

Xavier looked a little ill at ease.

"Apparently looking for his sister." Carter shook her head. "We were about to send him and Mr. Lehnsherr here off towards Berlin on their own little mission."

Howard stilled for a moment, his staring at Xavier, then nodded slowly. He shot Erik a quick glance and while Erik might have thought it was a quick dismissal, he could tell that Howard was taking in a lot in that one glance.

"Maybe you should delay that for a few minutes and we could have a little pow-wow first," Howard suggested. "I maybe have some information that could help you."

Erik stared at him silently. Something was off about the way Howard's voice was so even and neutral.

"Play your cards right and I may be able to help you beyond simple intel," Howard offered.

Carter stared at him, frowning, then nodded. "Let's step inside for a moment, gentlemen," she suggested. Turning to the soldiers around them, all obviously paying their utmost attention to anything but what was going on.

Once inside the tent, Carter gestured at Howard. "Spit it out, Howard."

"Charles, you don't have a sister," Howard said, "at least not the last time I checked."

Xavier shook his head. "We don't have the same father." He fell silent.

"Charles?" Howard's voice was low and lacked the cheeriness from earlier.

Erik looked again and saw a man with lines under his eyes, tired, worn, but dead set on keeping up a facade. It made more sense. Erik wasn't sure if he wanted to trust someone who could look so damned chipper after so many years of war.

Not that he was going to trust Howard right this very moment. However, he was curious to hear what Xavier had to say. He'd been half tempted to trust the man.

* * *

Charles sighed deeply and finally looked up at Howard. A man he hadn't seen in years, but still remembered, still recalled that this was a man who could make his father laugh long and deeply.

"You're well aware that things weren't stellar after my father's death," Charles began. He didn't care about the flinch in Howard's eyes. It was all in the past and nothing this man did would ever change it. "When mother remarried she brought into the house a bad man, but she also brought in a brother for me - a step brother. Shortly after that, I found a little blue girl in our kitchen and took her in. The three of us became inseparable, even if none of us were related by blood."

Charles met Howard's eyes, not really seeing Carter and Lehnsherr watching him silently. "We lost Cain to the war, I wasn't about to lose Raven as well." He held his breath for a moment then plowed on. "She's a shapeshifter, Howard. I can't let her fall into enemy hands. You can't be blind to what they do to our kind."

"I always suspected," Howard said quietly, holding Charles' gaze. "Brian always did said you were special."

"What I can do is nothing compared to Raven," Charles insisted. "She has a gift beyond that in her genes. An eye for details that allows her to not only copy someone physically, but emulate their voices as well as their mannerisms."

"The perfect soldier," Howard said quietly. "You intend to go North from here, yes?" His question was aimed at both Charles and Lehnsherr.

"Yes," Charles answered for them both. He could tell that Lehnsherr didn't trust Howard, but then again, he didn't seem to trust anyone and Charles was reluctant to try to dig inside his head and there was nothing he could say that would make Lehnsherr trust him.

"The Jerries are strengthening their defences towards this part of Europe," Howard explained, gesturing for them to follow him over to where Carter kept the map of the enemy lines spread out at all times.

"There's no other route for us to go," Lehnsherr interjected. "We can't exactly walk around the borders of the Third Reich until we find a way in."

"No, but it would be easier for you to go in from the north," Howard said, looking at the map. Tracing the Baltic Sea with a finger, he tapped the narrow strait between Sweden and Germany, along the eastern border of Denmark. "Peggy, I have news of supplies from Sweden, and I could drop the boys off in the southern part, and they could catch one of the fishing boats that sail across. There are more than a few people who ferry people back and forth in the dead of night without the Jerries noticing."

Peggy exhaled audibly. "Howard-"

"No, hear me out," Howard said, turning his attention to Charles and Lehnsherr. "The German border is less guarded there, mostly because Norway, Sweden and the bit of Denmark Sweden has claimed," he tapped Zealand then continued, "are listed as, and considered, neutral."

"So less of a risk and less of a trek from the coast to Berlin," Lehnsherr mused.

"Would you consider this better than the plans you've already made?" Charles asked curiously. While he knew a lot, he knew Lehnsherr was the more experienced in the field. He wasn't that stupid. If he wanted to survive, he would have to follow the man's lead. Even if he wasn't sure he could trust him, he was going to make use of the man's abilities and knowledge for as long as he could and just keep an eye open.

"I would need more intel about the area between the coast and Berlin, but it _is_ a geographical area that I am familiar with. However, troop movements-"

"Can be gotten once I drop you off in Sweden. I know people who can help you," Howard put in. "Do you guys know how to use a parachute?"

Charles felt his stomach drop, but Lehnsherr nodded.

"Charles?" Howard was staring at him. "Now's no time to play the hero and claim you can when you can't. If you go down and land wrong, you can break both your legs or even worse - your neck."

"I can do it," Charles said, promising himself that he would have to find someone whose mind he could glean for the necessary knowledge.

"I'm not carrying you if you go and kill yourself," Lehnsherr muttered in his ear when Carter and Howard leaned in over the map.

Charles was all too aware of Lehnsherr looming over him. "I can't be the one to hold this back," he admitted. "I can glean the knowledge from someone's mind, but I'd prefer to find someone who consents to it."

Lehnsherr's breath was hot and loud in his ear. "If I focus on it, can you stick to that information in my mind only?"

Charles stilled, staring unseeingly at Howard and Peggy by the map. "Why would you offer this?"

"Can you?" he insisted.

"Yes."

"I have my reasons that I'm not sharing right now," Lehnsherr muttered, stepping away.

Charles was all too aware of the loss of heat as the man moved to the other side of the tent. He wasn't entirely sure what to say to the offer, but for now it meant he didn't have to admit to Howard and Carter that no, he didn't know how to use a parachute.

He was barely steps closer to finding Raven, and he was already dragging a trail of secrets and lies behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

The flight was… not at all what Charles had expected. The plane, while obviously refurbished by Howard, was a patched up thing that rattled terribly and he couldn't help but wonder if half of Europe below them could hear them.

Howard had kept up a steady stream of small talk for a while, but even he had run out of things to say. Charles, on the other hand, was quite happy that he was quiet now. Lehnsherr? Well, he seemed completely at ease where he was seated next to Charles, head leaned back and eyes closed.

"We're jumping in less than twenty minutes," Lehnsherr suddenly said, loud enough for Charles to hear, but not loud enough for it to reach Howard in the front.

Charles looked over at him, but Lehnsherr's eyes were still closed. He couldn't help the feeling that even if he was given completely and free reign of his mind, he'd never understand the man.

"I know, and I still don't know how to make the jump," Charles admitted. He felt less than safe on the plane, but the thought of jumping out with a sheet strapped to his back made him sick to his stomach.

"How does it work?" Lehnsherr asked. "Do you have to touch me or something?"

Charles drew a deep breath. "It would make it easier," he admitted.

Lehnsherr turned his hand around and wiggled his fingers. "Well?"

Charles stared at his hand for a moment, then placed his own on top of it, feeling the heat of Lehnsherr's palm against his own. "Just focus on what I need to know," Charles told him. He opened his mouth to continue, but was hit with a barrage of information being pushed right at him, dropped in his lap, metaphorically speaking. At least very little else bled through, apart from...

"Ow," he finally managed, when it all cleared a little and the interior of the plane swam back into view. It took a few moments before he realized he was grasping ...Erik's hand almost painfully hard. "Sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand away and bending forward to bury his face in his palms.

"Did it work?" Erik asked, voice level and calm.

Charles drew in a deep breath and thought about parachuting. He still felt dread at having to jump out of a plane in the dark, but along with it he could tell what to do, how to do it. How to make it down in one piece. Maybe.

"Xavier?"

"Yeah, it worked," Charles quickly replied. "Just give me a moment or two to digest it." So, no wonder Charles had had trouble figuring out Lehnsherr's name. He hadn't seen all that much, but the name Max was a painful connection in the man's memories. Charles pushed this information into the back of his mind.

"You get five minutes, then we're gearing up," Erik replied drily.

Charles swallowed hard. He could do this. He had the information he needed, he had to process it, _use_ it.

* * *

Erik looked at the bowed neck of Xavier and squashed the urge to put his hand there, to lend the other man his strength. He'd known Xavier for such a short time and he was still unsure why he wanted to trust the man. He wasn't even entirely sure why he had offered to share his mind like that.

He remembered all too well Schmidt's pet telepath, a young girl, and when she had rooted around in his mind, it had been nothing like it had been a moment earlier with Xavier. He'd felt him in there, but it had been more like a soft touch to his head than the ripping pain he'd experienced when the girl had extracted information from him.

"You still haven't told me why you offered to let me read your mind," Xavier suddenly said, voice low and tired.

"I didn't want them to know the extend of your abilities." It was the truth. Not that Erik knew the extent to Xavier's powers. He couldn't quite help wonder if Xavier knew the extend.

"I think we can trust them," Xavier said quietly.

"I have learned not to trust anyone with my abilities, with anything that would set me aside from the norm," Erik cut him off. This ...child, was so far removed from reality-

"I know that the Third Reich deals with anyone who's different with cruel and unusual treatment, but Britain has welcomed our kind with open arms," Xavier tried.

"Our kind will never be accepted," Erik cut in. "When you've stopped being useful, they'll round you up and put you away - for good."

Xavier sighed. "I wish I could convince you of the opposite."

Erik huffed but didn't answer. So naïve, so young, so _trusting_.

He couldn't even tell himself otherwise when he helped Xavier into the harness of the chute. Erik had only done this a few times, and he'd been forced to guess a lot of it the first time, when an ill timed sabotage mission had taken him on board a German plane. Since then he'd managed to learn and the next couple of times, he'd known what he was doing. To some extent. It had helped those two weeks he'd been holed up with a British soldier who'd taught him about the chute, how to fold it and how to don it.

Checking and double checking every strap of Xavier's kit, Erik found himself distracted by the distant wave of jitters from the boy, even if he seemed to exude a certain amount of calm as well. It was… Xavier truly seemed to trust-

"You boys about ready to jump?" Howard's voice startled the both of them and Erik took a step away from Xavier. He'd lingered. He'd… Erik pushed away anything that might interfere with his plans.

"We're ready," Xavier said, not taking his eyes off Erik.

Erik wondered how much he'd read, then decided that it couldn't have been much. Erik wasn't prone to drifting that way, and he couldn't quite shake the unfamiliar flutter in the pit of his stomach. If he allowed himself to care, Xavier truly would become a liability.

The wind tore at his clothes as they plummeted towards the ground. He could feel the metal of the plane moving away from them, could feel Xavier off to his right. He wondered if he was imagining things, or if he could actually feel a shred of Xavier's mind clinging to his consciousness. Maybe not, because he imagined the boy was terrified. 

As Erik launched his chute, and felt the tug as gravity kicked in, he realized that Xavier's chute wasn't deploying. Could feel the boy jerking at the handle but not quite managing to get it to work. Shit, why hadn't Erik insisted on packing those chutes himself? He'd trusted them to be okay. Maybe Xavier was just panicking, because now Erik could tell that he was, the flare of utter fear flashing through his mind and it was most definitely not the flavour of his own fear.

Erik pushed the fear away - it wasn't his and he'd long since mastered his own. Reaching out he knew he had two options. Either he slowed Xavier's descent though that would mean letting his own chute take both their weight - not a good idea. Or he felt out the mechanism and-

A little below and off to the side, he heard a snap through the night air and the chute deployed.

Landing was… Not as bad as Erik had feared. Of course Erik was in luck and landed on grass while Xavier- Erik might have had trouble finding him if he hadn't already familiarized himself with the various buckles and bits of metal on the other man. As it was, Erik put his chute away quickly and walked up to the one tree in the field that Xavier had managed to get himself caught in.

"Not a word," Xavier said only just loud enough for Erik to hear.

Erik snorted but undid the buckles of the chute and caught Xavier when he nearly landed face first on the ground. The kid was heavier than he'd expected and Erik grunted when his wound made itself known. He'd managed to compartmentalize the twinges up until now, but the jump out of the plane had definitely done nothing to help the healing process.

"Lehnsherr?" Xavier's warm breath made Erik focus on him. "Erik?"

Erik breathed shallowly. He wanted to tell Xavier not to get too familiar with him, to stay out to- Closing his eyes for a moment he nodded. "Just give me a moment, then we need to figure out where to go from here. We've only got so much proviantation."

"Howard dropped us in the right place, I'm sure," Xavier muttered, taking a step back and digging in his pocket for the compass.

Erik used the time to find his footing in more ways than one. A quick check under his jacket told him that the wound hadn't reopened and that, for now at least, he was alright.

The trek from the field they had landed in was cold and dark and at the end of it, they were both stumbling over rocks and roots. If France had been cold, Sweden was freezing. And while they were both wearing winter gear better than anything Erik had worn for years, they were tired and cold by the time they reached the coordinates that Howard had assured them would land them among friends.

The gun that met them as they entered a barn to rest for a while, would beg to differ though.

* * *

Charles only just managed to feel the mind flaring inside the barn and put his hand on Erik's arm. The barn door swung open and there was no mistaking the barrel of the gun that was levelled at them.

Reaching out, Charles brushed the mind of the man holding the gun and realized at the same time as Erik jerked the gun out of his hands that this was their contact. Possibly this wasn't the best way of making friends and it took Charles most of the following hour trying to convince Sven that they were not actually spies - well, they were, but that they weren't German spies and that yes indeed, they were friends of Howard Stark's.

He could have just as easily tweaked the man's mind, but Charles was reluctant to do damage to someone who was actually their ally.

Sven, it turned out, was a mutant as well. Charles didn't' realize this until after he'd gotten over being held at gunpoint, the yelling, the dismantling of said gun - because Erik couldn't leave well enough alone and the reassembling of the gun, because Charles asked Erik nicely. Charles didn't dwell on the thrill of finally seeing Erik's gift in action.

Their contact wasn't sharing his abilities with them, not even that he was a mutant, but this close Charles could tell. Ever since Raven had come into his life, he'd noticed that their kind ...felt differently than non-gifted people.

Charles was surprised when Erik folded with less pressure from Charles than he'd expected. He kept an eye on Erik out of the corner of his eye while Sven apologized for the reception and asked what they needed. When Sven left them in the barn and told them that he'd be back when it was dark again with provisions and transportation, Charles found himself with nothing much to do but focus on Erik.

Who in turn quickly cottoned on and stared back at him, sour expression from his position in a pile of hay, wrapped in blankets to keep warm.

Charles kept wondering why Erik had said yes in the first place. Why he'd agreed to take Charles along. Sure, Charles had helped him, and it was possible that Erik could see further use for him, but Charles wasn't stupid. Erik was capable of a great deal on his own and he'd managed all these years without much help.

Morbidly curious and because there was nothing else to do, Charles plopped himself down across from Erik and allowed himself to smile at him, which only made Erik's frown deepen.

Somewhere along the line, he drifted off and didn't wake until dark had fallen and he felt someone come towards the barn they were in. A moment of panic and he recognized the mind. Sven.

Charles wondered if Erik had managed to get any sleep. He couldn't quite tell - mostly he didn't know what Erik looked like sleep deprived - hell, he didn't know what Erik looked like after a good night's sleep or if the man ever had a good night's sleep. Fact was that during their stay in the camp, Charles had caught the tail end of the occasional nightmare from the other people there, and occasionally from Erik as well. What he'd caught from the soldiers and Peggy Carter had been bad enough, but the few times he'd caught on to one of Erik's nightmares, he'd wondered how the man could ever sleep. He hadn't seen any details, but fear was a recognizable size to Charles; an old, unwanted acquaintance.

At least the two nights they had to travel through Sweden were fairly uneventful. Sven had supplied them with rations, warmer clothes and a destination. A destination that held another contact, and a night on the ocean.

Charles could tell how antsy Erik was getting. There was a jitteriness to him as he grew more and more silent, obviously not happy with the amount of people they crossed paths with, the number of people they had to talk to in order to get from Sweden to Germany.

However, when Charles had mentioned it, Erik had shaken his head and told him not to be an idiot. If they had chosen their original route up through Germany, then they would have had to dodge more checkpoints and been just as vulnerable.

As they waited in an old shed of a fishing village, Charles wanted to broach something else. He wanted to ask Erik if the man didn't trust him, because no matter where Charles went, what he did, he felt as if Erik was staring at him, constantly. As if he was waiting for Charles to either crack or turn on him.

Whichever came first.

The feeling of something about to happen didn't abate as they met their contact, who they were paying for passage to the coast of Germany. And maybe if Charles had had the gift of premonition, he would have voted for taking their chances going up through Germany instead of hiding away in the hold of a fishing boat, the Danish captain braving waves that were high enough to make him seasick, white foam forming on their tops.

Maybe.

* * *

The boat was mainly wood, and not quite enough metal to make Erik feel safe. He'd rarely ventured out on the open sea and at this point, he was almost regretting the change of their plans. He allowed himself to cast a quick look at his companion and found Xavier where he'd left him a moment earlier; curled up under blankets and tarpaulin next to Erik.

There wasn't enough light for Erik to see his face, but he could feel the low level unease from the man. Xavier wasn't any happier to be at sea than Erik was, and the rough weather wasn't exactly making it any easier.

Erik made the mistake of relaxing as they made their way across the waves. He could feel the metal of the various boats and sheds of the village growing distant. The sea was rough, yes, but he'd long since learned to control his own body's reaction to such trivialities. He'd had to; the time in the camps had been a rough teacher, but those 'lessons' had nevertheless saved his life on more than one occasion since.

At first Erik thought the metal he was sensing was the ruin of the lighthouse their captain had told them was their destination. However, the shape and feel of it wasn't what Erik had expected and then he realized it was _moving_ towards them. A whimper drew his attention and Erik slid over to crawl under the tarpaulin with Xavier, hoping to hell that the kid wouldn't throw up on him. That was all Erik worried about as he pulled him close and startled him.

"Lehnsherr?" His voice was low and barely audible over the sound of the fishing boat's engine and the roar of waves outside.

"We're about to be boarded," Erik interrupted. "Stay absolutely still, and if it goes wrong, get ready to swim."

Xavier exhaled sharply. "The water's freezing."

"Yes," was all Erik said. He went over everything in his head. If he'd been on his own, he might have taken the chance and fought the bastards, but he had a mission, was maybe closer to finding Schmidt than he'd been in the last couple of years. Erik tightened his grip on Xavier. They could hear voices up above. Erik caught the odd German word, but the sound of the sea kept him from hearing exactly what was going on. He felt the soldiers moving around, felt them getting closer and closer. Then he felt more than heard the hatch being thrown open.

Readying himself, Erik reached out towards any and all metal he could feel on the men, already getting ready to turn the men's weapons on themselves.

What happened next, was a blur and even afterwards, Erik wouldn't be able to fully describe it.

Xavier put his hand on Erik's cheek, a sense of calm coming over him; the urge to stay still overwhelming. The feel of not being there, of being as tiny as a mouse, unnoticable by anyone. The tarpaulin was pulled away and Erik bare realized before it was dropped back on top of them.

"Hier ist kein Mensch. Nur stinkende Fischinnereien."

Erik stared unseeingly into the dark, Xavier's laboured breathing the only thing he could hear over the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

Erik clutched him tightly, trying to breathe normally himself. It took a long time before his heart stopped racing.

The rest of the trip felt like… a dream. Their captain; obviously spooked by the encounter urged them into a dingy before time. Erik wanted to argue, but he couldn't find the energy to do so. All the adrenalin had rushed through his veins and left him a husk. However, he had a job to do. This was twice now Xavier had saved his life and Erik knew, with a horrible churn of his guts, that he couldn't walk away from this now, couldn't walk away from _Charles_ , even if he'd wanted to.

Charles was breathing, if unresponsive. Erik had tried to examine him as well as he could, but he lacked light. He could tell he was breathing, but that was about it.

Getting into the dingy, Erik reached out with his senses and drew a sigh of relief when he felt the twisted metal of the lighthouse. It was still dark, but at least the wind had died down a little, the waves no longer quite so high. Erik shut his eyes, braced his feet against the seat in front of him, gripped Charles tighter and _pulled_. The lighthouse's foundation didn't more, but the small dingy shot across the waves like a projectile, water spraying over them both, but the distance to the lighthouse and coast grew smaller by the second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hier ist kein Mensch. Nur stinkende Fischinnereien." - No one's here. Just stinking fish guts. (strictly speaking: There's is no human here. Just stinking fish guts.)


	7. Chapter 7

Charles woke up slowly, his head pounding. He was unsure of where he was, although he was pretty sure it had been a long time since he'd been as warm and cozy as he currently was. And in an actual bed.

Slowly, Charles focused on opening his eyes. His head still felt sore, the headache flaring as light made his eyes water.

"You're awake."

Charles startled and turned his head in the direction of the voice, the headache exploding, making him see stars.

"Easy," Erik said quietly, sitting down on the bed next to him, the dip in the mattress enough motion to make Charles nauseas. "Drink this." Erik's hand touched his neck, urging him up far enough to drink from the chipped cup offered.

"Peppermint tea," Charles mumbled.

"Settles the stomach. You've been projecting nausea for the past twenty minutes," Erik said drily.

Charles wanted to ask 'how', 'why', and he was silenced when an image flashed through his mind, a small boy with a steaming cup of tea and a woman's tender voice telling him to drink. He was fairly sure he should pull up his walls, but even the thought made his head hurt. "Where are we?" he finally asked. "The last thing I remember is the soldiers."

"You stopped them," Erik interrupted him. There was no trace of judgement or fear in his voice. If anything, there was a touch of respect and awe. "Of course you passed out and I had to drag your sorry excuse for an arse to safety." Erik paused. "We're in a safehouse," he then said.

Charles managed to open his eyes again, the light no longer feeling like knives piercing his eyeballs. Erik was sitting next to him on a narrow bed, dressed in clean clothes, looking far too approachable. Charles wondered for a moment what had changed and realized that the near constant scowl that had been there since they'd met was strangely absent.

"There are factions of resistance groups," Erik explained quietly. "If you know how and what to look for and what to ask."

"You're not as lone a warrior as you appear to be," Charles said, only partly joking.

Erik grinned mirthlessly. "Even I wouldn't have survived this long if I'd run a one man crusade. The resistance occasionally helps and I give them information in return - not to mention sabotage trains and other German supply lines when they ask me to."

Charles took another sip of the tea when Erik offered him the cup again.

"You were bleeding from the nose," Erik said quietly.

Charles heard the 'I thought you might be dying' even if it wasn't voiced. "I haven't pushed myself that hard in years," Charles admitted, touching the skin underneath his nose to find it clean of any blood.

"You're more powerful than you let on," Erik replied, not taking his eyes off Charles for a moment.

"Yes," was the only thing Charles could think of saying.

"Why?" Erik asked curiously. Again there was no judgement there, no fear.

"Bad things happen when I let go," Charles admitted, feeling uneasy about the topic of conversation.

"Control won't come from _not_ using your abilities, from limiting yourself," Erik pointed out.

Charles didn't say anything for a moment, then… "It's complicated." Raven, Cain, _Kurt_.

Erik watched him like a hawk for another moment or two, then nodded slowly. "You might not get that luxury when we find Schmidt. Especially not if his telepath is still there."

"I know," Charles said, feeling tired to the bone. He was well aware that they had no true idea of what Schmidt's people could do. No intel - unless… "Do you know what abilities Schmidt's people possess?"

"It's been a while since I had reliable intel," Erik admitted. "Schmidt is an unforgiving man. Even people loyal to him have been thrown aside if they stopped being of use to him."

"We sometimes heard rumours of Schmidt being a mutant," Charles said, remembering some of the things that had come across his desk at Bletchley.

Erik shrugged. "If so, I've never seen or heard of him displaying any special powers. Maybe longevity? He hasn't aged a day since my childhood."

Charles stared at him and was met with a defiant look. "I'd suspected," Charles said quietly. "Since your vendetta against Schmidt feels personal, that it might have been something like that." he couldn't help but look down at Erik's sleeve covered arm.

"You don't need the details," Erik said quietly. "but Schmidt was assigned as one of the head scientists at the camp where they took my parents."

"And you," Charles met his eyes.

"Yes. Schmidt was in reality looking for people like you and me. I was a proud child and refused." Erik drew in a deep, slow breath. "My parents paid the price."

Charles could tell there was more, but Erik wasn't forthcoming and Charles wasn't going to pry. He did have his own secrets and Erik hadn't dug much for those. Even so, he realized that if he'd ever met someone he could imagine _sharing_ those secrets with, Erik could well be it. Maybe because the man kept secrets of his own?

"When my father died, my mother remarried a man who drove her to drink herself to death and he revelled in beating us kids if we crossed his path. There was Cain, my sister Raven and I." Charles worried his lower lip and wondered why he'd said this. "He died, Cain went missing behind enemy lines and… I can't lose her too."

Charles swallowed hard when he felt Erik's hand landing on his arm, giving it a quick squeeze before the man left him to his own devices.

* * *

Travelling to Berlin was surprisingly easy from the north. Or at least easier than Erik had allowed himself to ever imagine. It had been ages since he'd last been in the city. Through the last few years, he'd avoided it as he travelled the rest of the Third Reich, chasing rumours of Schmidt and causing as much chaos as he possibly could.

By the time they reached the first checkpoints outside the city, they had their little act together and with the occasional aid of Charles' telepathy, they found themselves walking down a street, aiming for a smaller archive that Erik hoped could get them some information before they decided if they needed to sneak into der Reichstag. Which of course would probably spell the end of them.

Erik had even found himself accepting letting Charles speak inside his mind. They couldn't risk anyone overhearing them speaking together in English and they had played it so if anyone asked, then Charles was a mute, and between his telepathy and Erik supplying silent translations, they had a fairly good chance of not attracting too much attention. 

_'There's an ...archive, where they keep incoming and outgoing orders,'_ Charles told him as they huddled in the doorway of an old building. He'd explained to Erik that while he didn't understand German when spoken, inside people's minds, he could rely on images and emotions for understanding.

Erik was glad to see Charles using his power with more and more ease with every day. Whatever had spooked him in his childhood; he seemed to be pushing himself beyond it. This pleased Erik more than he cared to investigate.

_'Then that's where we'll need to go,'_ he pushed back at Charles. It had been surprisingly easy for Erik to learn to do this and he had to admit that it allowed them a level of privacy that he could only have dreamed of. At least Erik thought it was, unless Schmidt's pet telepath was around. He wasn't sure that Charles was strong enough to deal with her.

However, Erik had long since learned to use what he had and not worry too much about what he couldn't change anyway.

_'Any news on Schmidt?'_ This had been, and would continue to be, Erik's main focus. He wondered how clear this was to Charles and he didn't at any point consider what his single mindedness would do their working relationship. It was all it was. Charles Xavier, while a mutant like Erik himself, was the means to an end. Erik pushed all this as far down inside his mind as he could, under lock and key. Theoretically he shouldn't care that Charles might catch those thoughts, realistically…

_'I'm not sure, but logically, we should be able to find that out at the archive,'_ Charles replied.

Erik nodded and shifted a little to block the chill wind when Charles shivered. _'Just a matter of getting in, then,'_ Erik said, aiming for sarcasm, but not sure that it came across as such.

_'According to the clerk whose mind I scanned for the information,'_ Charles said slowly, _'there aren't all that many guards. Get me close enough to the side entrance and I can get us in.'_

Erik shot him a calculating look. This was a level of confidence he hadn't seen before in this man.

_'There's only one guard there and judging from his thoughts, he's terribly bored,'_ Charles told him, the corner of his mouth twisting up in a mirthless grin..

Erik huffed out a small laugh. _'I think we might be too much excitement for him to handle.'_

Charles raised an eyebrow at him. _'I actually intended to keep him bored while you and I slipped past. The longer we can stay unseen, the more time we'll have to look for what we're breaking in to find.'_

Erik tilted his head in agreement. God, he could have done so much damage to the Nazis and Schmidt's henchmen if he'd known Charles earlier. Even if Erik had only taken him along because he was an asset, he couldn't quite stop himself from fantasising about what he could accomplish with Charles by his side.

Compared to some of the break ins Erik had orchestrated in the past, this one was thankfully very anticlimactic. The old wooden door had a metal lock and while Charles kept the guard mentally occupied, Erik unlocked it and they slipped inside, the grey light of early evening not offering much to see by before the door swung shut.

Staying put for a few moments, they waited for their eyes to get used to the low light. Erik realized that this was truly just a side entrance, because there was little in the way of light. A few overhead lights spaced far enough apart to give the hallway a dunkel feel to him.

_'Dunkel?'_

Erik realized he was letting more slip through their connection than he'd meant to. Careful to not just slam every part of his mind shut, Erik took a deep breath, centering himself as they started moving down the hallway. _'Dark'_ he explained. 

_'I find it a little fascinating how you sometimes slip into German and Polish when you're thinking to yourself,'_ Charles told him. _'There's a certain flavour to true bilingual minds and with your knowledge of languages it's like experiencing a mental version of a patchwork quilt.'_

_'I'd appreciate it if you didn't dig too deeply,'_ Erik pushed back, as civilly as he could.

_'Oh! I wasn't.'_ Charles' embarrassment seemed to flow to Erik's mind and he was beginning to understand what Charles meant when he said something had a mental flavour to it. A little bitter sweet mixed with burnt almonds. _I can feel the mind without actually understanding or going deep for actual thoughts. It's the presence itself and for people who genuinely think in more than one language, well, your minds are spicy compared to those with only one language skill.'_

They moved quietly through the facility after this, Erik keeping a feel-out for anything that might be metal on people, weapons, guards etc. and Charles obviously leading him towards whatever part of the place would hold the information they were looking for. It sure beat having to interrogate the clerk that Charles had scanned earlier. So much quicker and with no one the wiser.

More than once, Charles slowed him with a hand to his arm, voices in the distance growing closer, than deviating and growing fainter again.

In the end, entry into the records room wasn't as hard as Erik had thought it would be. As they'd chosen the evening, the staff was limited and easier to avoid and the lock on the room itself was ridiculously easy for someone with Erik's gift to get through. It barely took more than it would have taken a normal man to twist the handle and push the door open.

_'All yours,'_ Charles told him, gesturing at the file cabinets. _'I won't be of much help, I'm afraid.'_

Erik watched him and wondered if they couldn't work something out anyway. _'Keep track of people getting near us,'_ he then said, determined to trust Charles as much as possible. _'I can work faster if I don't have to worry about someone walking in on me.'_

_'Wish I could do more, though,'_ Charles replied, almost petulantly.

Erik didn't even have to try to push the feeling of warmth that spread through him towards Charles. Considering that he'd never felt the urge to make someone else feel good for years, this should have surprised him more than it really did. _'Giving me room to search without constant vigilance is a greater help than you might think.'_

The rush of warmth he got in return made him turn away quickly burying it all under the need to move fast and get what they needed before someone found them.

Time flew and Erik lost himself in the search. He quickly realized which cabinets held the newest information and worked his way backwards. Yes, Schmidt had been in Berlin not too long ago - and damn, he'd missed him again, but currently he was somewhere else, working on a project called _**Projekt Einherjar**_. Erik wasn't sure what this project entailed, but there were mentions of controlling gifted and enhanced people and Erik stopped for a moment. There was a list of newly taken 'recruits' for the project itself. No names, but a few descriptions and he turned to Charles. _'What does your sister look like?'_

Charles eyed him for a moment, raised an eyebrow. _'You mean when she's not shifting her appearance?'_ He even managed to get the sarcasm across.

Erik just frowned and Charles acquiesced.

_'She's blue and has scales covering her body. Bright red hair.'_ Charles didn't take his eyes off Erik. _'Why?'_

Erik shook his head and went through the list. _'I think I know where she is. I think I know where Schmidt is as well.'_ Erik stared at the notes. There was no specifics as first. Only references like 'den Burg' and that didn't exactly narrow things down. _'Well, if I can figure out where exactly it is. Keep looking out for anyone coming, I'll need some more information.'_

Knowing better now what he was looking for, Erik skimmed files and in the hurry he almost missed the one file that brought up an actual name. _'Burg Hohenzollern.'_

_'What?'_ Charles' confusion made it through and Erik realized he was still projecting.

_'It's the place, a place, a castle or something similar,'_ Erik supplied. Putting the files back where he'd gotten them, he made sure there were no traces of them having been there and gestured for Charles to check if they could leave without any problems. _'It's enough for now - I think I know the area it's in, but we best get out of here while we still can do so without getting caught. The exactly location we can get elsewhere. I'm pretty sure it's somewhere south of here, so we'll head in that direction and keep our heads down for now.'_

Charles agreed fervently and getting out was as easy as getting in. What Erik hadn't expected was having to support Charles into an abandoned building and hunker down for the night, the other man nearly dead weight in his arms by the time they finally sat down.

"You could have told me you were overtaxing yourself again," Erik muttered into his ear as he pulled him close and tried not to shiver. Even out of the wind, the building was cold as hell.

"With a curfew and the city full of soldiers?" Charles mumbled back. "We really couldn't afford me not going all out."

"Just don't do it again," Erik grumbled, trying to hid how worried he actually _was_ for Charles' wellbeing. Charles was an asset, his help was valuable and he was no good to Erik if he got himself killed.

That was what Erik kept telling himself as he held Charles close, waiting for the morning to come so they could put Berlin behind them.


	8. Chapter 8

Charles tried to get some sleep as the old truck rumbled down another dirt path. It had been two days since they had left Belin behind after a night Charles didn't entirely remember. He recalled that they'd gotten into the facility and all, but from they had started their escape from there and until he woke up at the pale light of dawn, curled up against Erik, with the other man clasping him tightly. Well, he had very little recollection.

Not that he was complaining. He was genuinely beginning to like Erik and he found the more time he spent with the man, the more he realized that Erik wasn't as standoffish as he came across at first. Not as cold and not as uncaring.

Charles wondered, as he stole a quick look at Erik who was staring intently at the barely-there road ahead. He'd seen images in Erik's nightmares of a child and he had a feeling that Erik was, somewhere deep inside, a caretaker by nature. Someone who did best when he had someone to take care of. Of course it might be a trait hard to find now, as something or someone had very much broken that part of Erik.

The only reason Charles was sure about his impression were the two times now he'd overtaxed himself and lost consciousness. To only wake up to Erik caring for him, in his own gruff way.

He had long since gotten used to not speaking to Erik when they were on the road. Not that there was anything oppressive about their silence, but Erik was a man of few words and Charles had long since run out of conversational topics. Well, there was plenty he'd like to ask about, but every little topic would be a minefield as they were all linked to the bits and pieces Charles had gotten from Erik's mind and memories.

"We should abandon the truck sometime tomorrow night," Erik suddenly said, breaking the hour long silence.

"How long do we have to be on foot after that?" Charles asked. They weren't eating a lot, rationing the food Erik had stolen before they had left Belin. Which in itself hadn't been much. It would take stamina to cross the mountain paths and Charles wasn't sure that he had the necessary energy to keep up with Erik.

"As much as a day or two," Erik said. He huffed out a breath, the air white. "Maybe even three. It's not easy terrain and I don't want us to be on the road all the time - there are places where we'd be too visible."

Charles nodded. "Provisions?" he asked, already doing calculations in his head. At least Erik had acquired warmer clothes for them while Charles had been out and Charles wasn't going to ask. It wasn't military outfits, but they were warm and nondescriptive. Erik had even gotten ahold of some newer and thicker blankets that were right now rolled up between them on the bench of the truck.

"There's a small village close to where I intend to leave the truck," Erik said after a moment. "The region's not known for being fond of soldiers, so there's a good chance that some of the resistance factions are there and they might be able to help us out."

Charles nodded. So far they had been lucky. So far they had even made it in and out of Berlin without getting stopped. Even the couple of roadblocks they had passed, they had managed to get through unscathed. Erik had managed most of it, and when Charles had felt the soldiers becoming wary, he'd soothed their minds into trusting in Erik's words.

Charles leaned his head against the folded up thinner blanket that he was using to keep his head from bumping against the hard frame of the truck at every hole they hit. Erik didn't seem to have more to share and Charles let himself drift again.

The only break in the driving happened the next morning, when Erik suddenly let the truck slow, his mind flaring with focus and the readiness to fight.

"Howlett," he suddenly said.

Charles rubbed his tired eyes and stared out into the early morning light. In front of the truck was a familiar short, stocky figure, arms crossed over his chest, completely at ease as if Erik couldn't just have run the truck over him.

"Hello, boys," Howlett said, as he came to lean against the driver side door of the truck once Erik had let it stop.

Erik and Charles shared a questioning look.

"Fancy meeting you two here, when you said you'd be in Berlin," Howlett carried on, faking an unconcerned air.

_'We should tell him,'_ Charles said to Erik, who in turn looked a little more unsure. _'Schmidt has his own army, Erik. We need all the help we can get.'_

"We've tracked information on Schmidt and the whereabouts of other mutants to a castle that can only be Burg Hohenzollern," Erik said slowly, eyeing Howlett with distrust.

Howlett nodded slowly, his stance instantly changing to a more alert one. "It fits with what we've been able to figure out," he admitted. "No specific location, but that Schmidt has been seen in this part of the Reich."

"Hohenzollern," Erik ground out.

_'Maybe we should ask for a little backup?'_ Charles asked carefully. He knew Erik wanted his revenge with a burning passion, but sure he could see they would do better with backup than on their own.

Howlett replied before Erik could. "You two try not to get yourselves killed," he said, pushing away from the truck. "I'm going to get Agent Carter this intel. If you go in too early, you might tip our hand."

"If we go in early," Erik mimicked. "We'll remove Schmidt and end this."

Howlett rolled his eyes. "Sure thing, slim. However, a failed attack would put Schmidt on high alert and with him the rest of the Nazis and Hitler himself."

"Or work as a diversion," Charles found himself replying before thinking. "We're there for two things - Erik for Schmidt, and I for Raven. Even if we fail…" Charles swallowed hard. He hoped they wouldn't. "Even if we fail, all Schmidt will see is a two-man attack force. He'll think us foolish and desperate. And if need be, I can remove our conversation and knowledge of earlier meeting from both Erik's and my own mind so even another telepath can't find it." He wasn't a hundred percent sure about that, but he'd done so for Raven and Cain, after one of their worst run-ins with Kurt - on their requests. Though he'd never tried to do it to himself. Even if he'd let them both think he had. He would eventually have noticed a hole in his memories and gone searching - the memory was better off shut off in the darkest part of his mind.

Looking over, he found Erik watching him with a frown.

"If need be," Charles repeated. "It won't be necessary unless Schmidt still has a telepath."

"There is no new information on that," Howlett replied. "But it doesn't mean that he doesn't have one in his employ."

Erik and Charles both nodded.

"Like I said, try not to get yourselves killed." With that, he disappeared, his mind hard for Charles to track.

Another wordless look exchanged with Erik and the latter started up the truck again. They had no way of knowing how fast the Commandos could get to Hohenzollern, so they were, as before, on their own.

* * *

As they gathered closer to the small village, Charles realized that they have had their plans work terribly well so far, and had, perhaps, grown a little complacent.

There was no village there, just burnt out houses that had long since been left by their inhabitants.

"Seems we have hit a bit of a snag," Charles said drily. "What do you think happened here?"

"Mostly, if a village is left like this," Erik said quietly, "the resistance has been taken out of the picture, and the easiest way for them to do so, is by burning a village to the ground." Erik grew quiet for a moment, a pinched look on his face. "I suggest we don't go in there," he then said. "Burnt flesh takes a certain kind of stomach to handle."

"Ah," was all Charles could say, feeling his stomach twist itself at the mere thought.

They had left their truck behind and had hoped to find some kind of provisions in this village, but perhaps their luck was running out.

Erik sighed deeply. "We probably should double back and find the nearest village where we _can_ get food."

Charles closed his eyes and reached out with his mind. It was almost scary how much easier it seemed every day. The reach he found now was much bigger than he'd ever experienced before. Every time he pushed himself, he came back with more, could reach further. "Give me a moment to check," Charles muttered, drawing strength and determination from Erik, who was standing quietly next to him.

The usual feel of animals like hares and deer were scattered around, simple dots brushing against his attention as he reached further. "Huh," he mumbled and double checked. There was something a couple of hours further along their path. "I thought you said this would be the last village we would get to before the castle."

"It should be," Erik agreed. "What are you picking up?"

Charles bit his lower lip and focused again, it was as if there was something between him and the minds he was sensing. Then he realized. "Below ground, or rather, inside the mountains, inside the rock."

"What?" Erik asked, a little impatience sneaking into his voice.

"I think I've found a small German base embedded in the mountainside," Charles said slowly.

Erik huffed out a curse. "Well, we could theoretically get provisions there," he said.

Charles' eyes flew open. "Are you insane?" he asked. It was one thing to waltz through a checkpoint guarded by two soldier. A base counting at least ten people…?

"Between our gifts and my experience," Erik replied, tugging him along, "we should be alright. I'm not suggesting we walk up to the front door and ask for food, but we'll scout out the area when we get closer. Do you know close we can safely get to it?" Erik asked.

Charles shook his head. "We're still too far from them for me to read their minds. Erik, it's an insane idea."

"We're not exactly swimming in options here, Charles," Erik interrupted him. "We can't stay here and we don't have provisions to wait around. Besides, it's in the direction we're going anyway."

Charles rubbed his eyes. "I repeat, it's insane, but if you're saying it's our only option, then we'll go. But I can't get a full read on them, and it's only partly due to distance," he admitted and frowned as he tried again. "I think the rock face itself is providing them with some protection against me."

"Rest your mind and stick to only occasionally checking," Erik suggested. "We've got food and water enough for another day at least, then it gets tricky."

"They're not really a day ahead," Charles muttered. "I'd say three or four hours."

"And it'll be dark in less than that," Erik said. "I can't advise stumbling through uneven mountain paths in the dark - at any point of the year really."

Charles nodded. Erik was, of course, right. Charles wondered again if he'd ever have made it this far on his own, then squashed the thought. Of course not. He'd already passed out twice from pushing himself too far. Erik was right, he had let his gift grow rusty - keeping it on a minimum instead of nursing it and making it grow.

Even with the bad memories of Kurt Marko, Charles could see the advantage of honing his ability. If he hadn't limited himself like this, he could have possibly walked in there and gotten Raven on his own.

Shaking his head as he tread behind Erik making sure to follow his path to avoid stumbling over rocks, Charles berated himself. Those were the kind of thoughts that would lead to trouble. Tweaking people's thoughts to get his way and one day he might be bending everyone's will to his.

"What's wrong?" Erik asked quietly.

"Nothing," Charles bit out, not really wanting to talk about it.

"Charles, I can still feel your moods in here," Erik grunted, pointing at his own head without turning to look at Charles.

Feeling a little silly, Charles caved. "I was thinking how I've been gaining more and more strength telepathically," he admitted. "I bend people's perception, their will to mine. What if I don't know where, when and how to stop?"

Erik stopped and Charles almost walked into him. Turning around he stared at Charles like he was an alien. "Charles, I may only have known you for a short time, but let alone the fact that you worry about this, tells me that it's probably not going to be a problem you'll face. The fact that you think about it, that you worry about it, tells me that you'll think twice before ever going that far."

Charles swallowed hard. He wanted to believe Erik, but the man himself seemed to dislike telepaths and although Charles had grown rather fond of the connection they had been forced to rely on to get to and into Berlin, he'd noticed how Erik often flinched when Charles spoke to him mind to mind - especially if they had both kept quiet for a while. Then again, Erik wasn't someone who would sprout such words simply to make Charles feel better. Quite frankly, Charles couldn't imagine Erik ever doing something to spare someone else's feelings.

"Come on," Erik said with a shake of the head as he turned around again, leading them onto the path that would take them into the mountains ahead.

* * *

Erik kept quiet - not just from speaking out loud, but he worked hard to keep his mind from being too loud. He was hard pressed to explain, even to himself, why he'd been so open with Charles. He wanted to judge Charles, what he could do, by what Schmidt's telepath had done, but he found more and more that he couldn't find the ire or the justification to hold Charles' gift against him. And he'd found he meant every word he'd said to him. Erik was more worried about Charles falling into the hands of Schmidt. Less because he was a telepath and more because he was ...well, _Charles_.

All this churned in his gut, spun through his mind as Erik made sure to keep it so far down that Charles wouldn't catch on to it.

The trip into the mountains was harder than they had expected and Erik, once he was close enough to feel the metal of the soldiers, called for a break.

"I thought you said the mountains in the dark are too dangerous," Charles said as they settled down behind a couple of boulders forming a natural lee. "So if we're not making camp-"

"We know where we're going now," Erik told him quietly as they shared the last meager rations. "The dark will hide our approach." And put less of a strain on you, he didn't say. Instead he gruffly sat back and held up a hand when it looked like Charles wanted to argue. "You need to conserve your strength. We don't know what we'll be up against in there."

They sat quietly for a few minutes. "Get some sleep," Erik finally said, for the first time in a long while feeling a little ill at ease in Charles' company, unable to say exactly _why_. "I'll wake you shortly."

Charles watched him silently, an oddly vulnerable look on his face. It lingered until he nodded, took his rolled up blanket and lay down, closing his eyes.

Erik forced himself to look away. This was an unnecessary complication he couldn't afford. Something he wanted but couldn't have, wouldn't be allowed to _keep._

He'd made that mistake with Magda. He couldn't afford to do this to himself again to only have Schmidt taking it away again. Erik could at least pretend he had a say in this. He sat back against the boulder and tried not to dwell on anything but what lay ahead.

* * *

"It's not the castle itself," Erik said quietly as they hunkered down behind a ridge. "The castle is a few kilometers ahead of us."

"Checkpoint?" Charles asked quietly.

"Entrance point, I think," Erik replied as he reached further into the place. He couldn't quite get a good enough feel for it until they were closer, but it would have been nice to know what they were getting into.

_'May I?'_

Erik didn't quite startle as he'd done before. Growing used to Charles' powers like this felt odd, but not bad. Erik pushed a questioning feel in his direction, unsure what Charles was asking.

_'You push yourself through your anger,'_ Charles said, resting a hand on Erik's shoulder. _'If I may?'_

Erik nodded without quite knowing what he was agreeing to. He'd run on anger since Schmidt had put a bullet through his mother's head, he couldn't imagine what Charles might think he could do in there.

The rush of surprise and pain from Charles let Erik know that he'd caught the tail end of that mental image. Erik drew a deep breath. _'Stay away from those memories, Charles.'_ His warning lacked its usual bite. Normally he wouldn't share such things with anyone, because it was no one else's business. With Charles he didn't feel the man could benefit from knowing such pain.

_'Ah, but my friend, you're not alone.'_ Charles hand on his shoulder squeezed. Warmth and heat spread through Erik's mind. Like sunlight after a cold, dark night. Flickers of memories, of happier times that Erik had thought long since lost in the sea of painful memories resurfaced. _'Now,'_ Charles whispered in his mind. _'Reach out again, what do you see?'_

Erik pushed through the emotional turmoil and felt like he was rising out of water, finally breathing freely for the first time ever. He could see the metal lining the checkpoint, could see the intricate network of underground hallways with their steel-supported walls and ceilings.

He followed the one that lead in the right direction, finding it didn't so much end at the castle, but carried on inside the mountain to end inside the castle.

_'Our way in,'_ Charles' voice washed through Erik's mind. _'We got into Berlin, we can do this.'_

Erik let himself fall back from his search, slowly resurfacing in his own mind, his own body, finding his face mashed against Charles' neck. Making the mistake of taking a deep breath, he fought down the urge to burrow against the warm skin and leaned back slowly.

This close Charles' eyes gave away his tiredness, but also his joy for pushing Erik's powers.

"I didn't push them," Charles said quietly. "You did."

Erik sat back from him, but felt oddly reluctant to move too far away. "I get the feeling it only worked because you helped."

Charles shook his head. "There is no reason why you wouldn't be able to do so on your own - you're a lot more powerful than you give yourself credit for, my friend."

Erik raised an eyebrow and watched Charles flush. He didn't even have to say anything. He wondered if he'd ever get to see Charles let go of his own limitations. As it were, he was damned glad that Charles had shown him this. Even if he would have trouble recreating the calm Charles had infused in him.

"I suggest we get in, we use their own infrastructure to get to the castle," Erik muttered.

"If we can get uniforms from them, even better," Charles said. "I won't have to blur everything then - just our faces."

Erik nodded. Maybe they _could_ do this, after all. Maybe this was it, this was his one big chance to get to Schmidt. Maybe he could allow himself to trust Charles more than he'd dared.

"Schmidt killed my parents," Erik said, before he could stop himself. "I eventually escaped, found a reason to live, changed my name…"

"Max," Charles said quietly. "Erik, you don't have to…"

Erik squeezed his arm and drew a deep breath. "Max met a woman, she gave birth to a little baby girl."

"Erik…"

"Schmidt found our small village…" Erik pulled back to look at him, feeling the numb pain of the memories.

"What were their names?" Charles asked.

"Magda was my wife and Anya… Anya wasn't even two years old when Schmidt came. I wasn't there to protect them…" Erik trailed off. "This is why I hunt Schmidt."

Charles was silent for a moment. "You asked why I've kept myself back."

"You don't have to," Erik said and he realized he meant it. He'd pushed Charles about this a couple of times, but in reality, now, he didn't want him to feel obligated to share.

"Yes, I do. It's the reason I worried about not being able to control it." Charles let his head fall forward for a few moments. His shoulders hunched. "Cain, Raven and I… we lived under my stepfather's thumb. He would take anything out on us. We tried to protect each other, but one night, half a year after mother died, he was drunk and we didn't quite manage to stay out of his way. He nearly killed Cain that night. I stopped him…"

Charles trailed off and Erik couldn't help pulling him closer, to hold him loosely. "Dont…"

"I stopped him permanently," Charles admitted, his words barely audible.

Erik should have found this scary, but instead he just held on, keeping his mind calm for Charles. Quite enjoying the fit of his body and the shared moment of painful memories.


	9. Chapter 9

"I don't think we should be attempting it on the inside."

Charles turned to look at Erik. They were getting ready to move in on the checkpoint. "Why not?"

Erik shrugged, looking thoughtful. "The more I think about it, the more I lean towards heading up through the forest and getting over the wall." He held up a hand to stall Charles. "Hear me out, just, yeah. Is there any way you're strong enough to make them think that we're trying to do what we were planning? So they'd be busy in the tunnels while we make our way up?"

Charles thought about this for a moment. If they did go through the tunnels, and he remembered the layout of them through Erik's mind, they would have to walk three kilometers without any other way than forward or backwards. Nowhere to hide on the way. As plans went, Erik's idea had its merits. "It would probably be easier than trying to hide our presence all the way from the checkpoint to the castle," he agreed.

Hiding themselves away out of sight, but close enough to put as little strain on Charles as possible, they stayed put and Charles spent a good five minutes centering himself.

Reaching out to all those minds, he wondered where best to place his first bit of information. A soldier was walking down a hallway. Ah, perfect. He had him firing at ghosts and a moment later, more soldiers came to his aid.

"Give it a moment," Charles muttered as he did the same with three other soldiers in two other locations. "Let the chaos unfold - I can deflect their attention and make everyone look away for those few moments we're out in the open."

And then they were up and off. The half run up the mountain became hazy to Charles. He was beyond tired, even with the enforced rest from Erik. They hadn't had much to eat the past week and sleeping in a truck or a barn just didn't mean a good night's rest. Erik had allowed him to hang onto him mentally - mostly, probably, to make silent communication easier. Charles did wonder, for the millionth time, as he stumbled over another root in the dark, if he could have done this on his own. Come this close to where Raven supposedly was.

He'd searched already, stretching out to see if he could find her, feel her mind, but something seemed to be blocking him from parts of the castle. When he'd mentioned it to Erik, the man had shaken his head and told him not to worry over too many things. He'd even mentioned to Charles that he was feeling metal unfamiliar to him.

In their stealth move on the castle, Charles did as Erik had suggested, pushed it away. He couldn't do anything about it from here, all he could do was pay attention and turn prying eyes away.

Apparently their ruse had worked, because there were very few guards on the side of the castle they were attempting to reach. There were two guards and Charles made them turn away, ignoring him and Erik as they approached.

Erik's hand on his arm pulled Charles from his almost zoned out state of mind.

_'They have cameras,'_ Erik told him. _'Give me a moment to make sure they don't catch us as we pass them.'_

Charles didn't ask how he intended to do this, but let Erik lead him through the rest of the forest until they were standing with their backs to the rough stone of the castle wall.

_'This is a blind spot for the cameras'_ Erik told him. _'Is the coast clear?'_

Charles reached out and turned a guard aways who had been intending to check the parapet above them. Then he nodded. _'Clear.'_

Although Erik had told him he could get them in, Charles wasn't quite ready for it when Erik pulled him in close and held him tight. _'I want to try something crazy,'_ Erik told him. And crazy it would be, because he was showing Charles exactly what he had in mind and what he needed Charles to do for him.

_'Madman,'_ Charles told him, but he couldn't help but admire Erik's idea. There was metal above them, embedded in the stone of the castle and while Charles had no idea how to do this, he could at least help Erik focus on what he intended to do.

Slowly, if a bit wobbly, the ground disappeared from under Charles' feet, Erik's arms like a vice around him. Charles kept his eyes closed as they rose up through the cold night air. He could tell Erik was focusing hard on getting them onto the parapet, and Charles decided he didn't need Charles' worries about plummeting to their deaths if said focus failed.

_'You can open your eyes now,'_ Erik told him, his mental voice far too smug for Charles' liking. But at least he could feel ground under his feet again. They were in the shadow of one of the towers, and Charles quickly cast about for any minds being too near them.

_'We're still alone - and there aren't that many people here.'_ Charles wondered if maybe their intel had been wrong.

_'There's still a part of the castle hidden behind some metal I can't figure out what is,'_ Erik admitted. _'We're probably better off if we expect it to hide trouble.'_

Possibly Charles should have been worried about the ease with which they got into the castle and avoided the guards. There was apparently more to the the metal Erik had felt as being 'off'.

The surprise party waiting on the other side was definitely not something they had planned for.

* * *

"Well, well, well - if it isn't Kleiner Erik," Schmidt said from his perch on a chair that came perilously close to looking like a throne. "About time - we've been expecting you for the past half few days." He leaned forward. "I heard of the break in in the archive in Berlin - I thought it might have been you, although the lack of dead bodies had me wondering."

Erik felt as if he couldn't breathe. There was Schmidt, right in front of them, wearing a ridiculous metal helmet.

"I see now that you have a new friend - and it is so nice of of you to bring me a new telepath." Schmidt hesitated for a moment, obviously searching for the right words. "My previous one has developed a defect." He gestured towards a woman who Erik didn't at first recognize. Then he did. She looked like a ghost of her former self. Her eyes seemed dead and her shoulders were slumped slightly.

A sharp pain shot through Erik's head and for a split second he thought 'this is it, this is Schmidt's telepath shutting me down'. Then he realized that it was Charles he could feel. A wordless cry of agony. He didn't dare turn around to look at him, afraid to take his eyes off Schmidt.

Then he caught on to the reason for Charles's pain. Charles had told him enough for him to understand. They both had the same empty look in their eyes. One was a man, huge and build like he could take down anything. Broad and imposing, towering over the woman with the blue skin.

Erik realized, from the description that she would have to be Raven. The man, however, Charles apparently recognized as well. If Erik had the time, he might wager a guess or two, but as it were, the only thing that would ever explain Charles' reaction would be Cain, because the kind of pain he was feeling from Charles was the kind that Erik knew only too well. The pain of family lost.

"I felt young Mr. Xavier might need a little incentive and I do so need a new telepath," Schmidt said with a put upon sigh. "And to think at first, I thought the little shapeshifter was heaven sent. I unfortunately had to dispose of Herr Hitler the other day - had become quite a liability and gone quite mad. With a shapeshifter and a fresh telepath I can end the stalemate of this war and destroy my enemies."

The pain grew to crippling heights and Erik found he couldn't block Charles off. Couldn't leave him alone with this. _'Snap out of it!'_ Erik screamed at him, mentally delivering a stinging slap.

Behind him, Charles gasped and Erik knew he'd fallen to his knees.

They had to stop Schmidt here and now. There was no room for Erik to lose himself in his revenge. If he could, he would try to save lives, but first and foremost, he had to stop Schmidt. Schmidt's side was already stronger than they were and they couldn't afford to allow any reinforcements to come to his aid.

Reaching out, Erik found the metal lattices that were built in over the doors. There were three entrances and each had a lattice embedded above it. It barely took a conscious thought and they rattled down, effectively trapping the six of them inside.

"Ah, so sweet," Schmidt taunted, a flash of annoyance in his eyes. "You don't want anyone else interfering with our little reunion."

Erik drew a deep breath. As much as he wanted to give into the anger, let it all go and attack, he was well aware that would only get him killed and leave Charles in their hands. Charles, who was quiet behind him.

_'Keep them busy.'_ Charles' mental voice was still laced with pain but it felt as if it had a target now, instead of simply burning him out and incapacitating him. _'We have to take Miss Frost out of the equation. She's digging away at my mind, and yours - but so far I've been able to keep her from getting inside your head. I don't know if it's because she's not as strong as we thought or… her heart's not really in it.'_

_'She looks broken,'_ Erik replied as he breathed deeply again, holding it before letting the air out again, slowly. _'Use it.'_

Cain and Erik moved at the same time. Cain running forward, an unstoppable force. Unfortunately for him, Schmidt apparently hadn't thought Erik would be stronger than the boy he'd been. Because plenty of Cain's armour was metal and Erik pushed him off course - although it wasn't easy. There was something odd about the man. Charles hadn't mentioned he was a mutant, but no ordinary man had so much strength.

Blundering sideways, Cain hit the wall and slid to the ground, apparently unconscious.

Erik turned just in time to see Raven move. And god, she was a sight to see. Blue scales and with movements that warned him he'd be in deep trouble if she got close enough to hit him. What had Charles said? Shape shifter and stronger than the average human? Yeah, he should definitely keep her away from himself and Charles. Especially while Charles was still fighting a silent battle with Frost.

Reaching out, he found the ornamental spears on the wall and at the same time as Raven jumped at him, he wrapped two of them around her, dragging her off into a corner. It was eerie how she didn't say anything, just stared at him in an empty fashion.

"You have most definitely grown, my dear boy," Schmidt said, cracks audible in his honey sweet voice.

Erik only just managed to throw up two metal shields from the wall to take some of the blast as Schmidt let loose. Most definitely a mutant and most definitely strong enough to kill them, Erik thought to himself, his head swimming as the shock wave lifted him off his feet and threw him back against the wall.

Leaving Charles obliviously kneeling on the floor - right in the line of Schmidt's next volley. And Schmidt looked like he was about to gear up for another one.

_'Erik... '_

Everything froze around them for a moment as Charles dumped information into his mind.

The collars. The collars that Erik only now realized both Raven, Cain and Frost were wearing. Erik was on his feet in a heartbeat, pulling every bit of metal with him as he launched himself af Schmidt, covering the fact that just a split second before that, with Charles in his mind as an anchor, he found the collars and undid them.

The rest would be up to Charles. All Erik could do was take on Schmidt and buy Charles the time he needed.

The next minutes were a blur to Erik. No matter what he hit Schmidt with, it was turned on him. Every blow. And Erik couldn't get close enough to him to strangle the bastard, because he had the feeling that that was what it would take.

If things had been chaotic they descended into ragnarok all of the sudden.

Shots were fired outside, there was screaming and yelling, even though most of it drowned in the sound of metal being torn to pieces, Erik did, on some level notice it. They probably didn't have much time before Schmidt's legions managed to get the lattice away from the doors.

Erik felt more than saw blood running down his neck as a fragment from one of Schmidt's attacks grazed his temple and another one pierced his upper arm. Pain radiated from other cuts and bruises, but Erik didn't care.

Reaching out again, he found a sword mounted on the wall. Pulling it to him, he grasped the handle of it. It was a long broadsword and it wasn't a replica. The metal sang to him, the quality and balance a beautiful symphony to his ears.

"You come at me with that, Erik," Schmidt spat at him, "I can still convert any attack on me into energy."

"Maybe I can help," someone said from behind him.

Erik looked up and found Cain looming behind Schmidt. His eyes seemed clearer now, focused. And there was anger in his eyes that was aimed at Schmidt as he wrapped his meaty arms around the man, holding him close.

"As long as I don't squeeze hard enough for it to create energy in you," Cain growled, "I can hold you long enough." He lifted his gaze and met Erik's. "And as long as this gentleman doesn't push the sword through you too fast, you have no way of converting it into energy."

Erik hefted up the sword and limped forward. He caught a flash of blue out the corner of his eye and for a split second he thought Raven was attacking again, but she sank to her knees in front of Charles who was still staring into the distance. Obviously still silently engaged with Frost.

Pressing the tip of the sword against Schmidt's chest, right over his heart, if the monster had one, Erik began pushing it through the flesh. Ever so slowly. This was the key to victory that Cain had given him.

Cain let him slump to the floor as blood welled up from Schmidt's mouth, the mad look in his eyes dimming. "Now you'll never know," he rasped.

Erik just stared at him and refused to be baited.

"Your precious Magda didn't die and you'll never find them now."

The words were like ice piercing his mind. Erik stared down at Schmidt. "What did you say?" he demanded, sinking to his knees next to Schmidt, still leaning on the sword piercing Schmidt's chest.

"You'll never find them, never find them," Schmidt trailed off.

"Find who!?" Erik shouted at him, but Schmidt was long gone, no life left in him.

He looked up to find Cain watching him with a tired look so full of pain. Erik pulled the sword from Schmidt's chest and dragged it behind him until he could fall to his knees next to Charles and Raven.

Raven looked up at him and shook her head. "I don't know who you are, but thank you." She looked over his shoulder at Schmidt, a far too adult look on her young face.

A shadow loomed over them and Cain knelt next to them, awkwardly opening his arms to hold Raven as she shuffled closer to him. He nodded at Erik, acknowledging what had just happened. Erik was about to ask about Frost, when the woman sighed and sank to the floor.

A tear welled from under closed eyelids and Charles sighed equally, opening his eyes. "She wouldn't let me save her," he said quietly. "She killed herself - said she couldn't live with the memories."

They all sat in silence and stared at him. Reaching out to touch Raven and then, hesitantly, Cain, Charles shook his head in disbelief. "You're alive. Both of you." He squinted at Cain. "You're different."

Cain nodded. "Schmidt thought I was strong enough to be used for experimentation." That was all he said. If asked, Erik wouldn't push him for more. It did say it all. It also explained why when the collar was removed, Cain had come to his aid.

Charles accepted Raven as she let go of Cain to curl in close to him, wrapping her arms around him. He reached out with one hand for Cain to grasp in his own, much larger.

For a moment, Erik thought of getting up and walking away. He was done here, Schmidt was dead and he had to find out what Schmidt had meant.

_'I know some of it,'_ Charles voice sounded tired in his head.

Erik looked at him as he stretched his free hand towards Erik.

_'Miss Frost told me - you have twins somewhere. They're not here. But we'll find them.'_

The conviction almost bowled Erik over.

* * *

The rest of the night was nearly as chaotic as the battle had been.

Charles felt like his head was going to explode and when he finally found the energy to look around, he realized that Erik had barred them in. And someone was trying to get through. When the lattice fell apart, it wasn't, however, Schmidt's minions, but a battering ram handled by four of the Howling Commandos, stepping aside to let Peggy Carter step through.

Charles felt as if the night kept falling apart around him, and the pale morning light, when it came, didn't help much. His head was still reeling from finding not only Raven, but _Cain_ as well.

Not to mention; barely making it out of Miss Frost's mind before she'd chosen to shut herself down.

So much pain. So much pain when she'd realized what she'd done for Schmidt. And Charles had been there with her, through the memories crashing back once the collar had been removed and she had once again been master of her own mind.

He looked around and thought for a moment how lucky they had been that Carter and the Commandos had shown up when they had. He was also thankful that they had opted for leaving him where he was, in the corner under at least three blanket, because apparently Dum Dum really was a mother hen and had decided one wouldn't be enough.

Charles had been okay at first, because he'd had Raven and _Cain_ back. One he'd hoped to find alive, the other he'd long since thought dead and gone. Cain had gruffly stayed with him at first, then gone off to help the Commandos as they rooted out the last of Schmidt's men.

Raven… had flinched when Charles had touched her mind to assure himself that she was indeed okay. He couldn't really blame her, not after having seen through Frost's mind and eyes what Schmidt had done to her. And Raven had always been wary of his telepathy. He couldn't see it getting better anytime soon. So he'd smiled as much as he could when she'd gone to help the Commandos as well.

Twice, Erik had come over to him, straying from his search for information on the twins. The surprise Frost had shared with him before she'd died. All she'd given him was a couple of names and a vague description.

The third time Erik came back to him, he sat down next to him, looking like death warmed over. Charles stared at him in silence for a moment, then lifted up the blankets he was huddled under.

Erik stared at him for a moment, then slid in alongside Charles, curling tiredly against him.

"Any luck?" Charles asked.

Erik shook his head. "Charles…" he trailed off. _'When you said 'we' would find them...'_

Charles was a little startled after Raven's rejection of his gift to have Erik do this without a second thought. And apparently finding it easier to do. _'I meant it. I can't let you do this alone.'_ He hesitated for a moment, the let the warmth he felt when thinking about Erik seep through their connection. _'If you'll have me.'_

A rush of jumbled emotions washed back to him from Erik and he was fairly sure he could see the man uncharacteristically flushing. He almost held his breath when Erik took his hand under the blanket.

A clearing of a throat brought them both back to the here and now. "I hope you gentlemen won't mind if I interrupt for a moment," Peggy said, kneeling on the cold floor in front of them.

Charles tore his attention from Erik, although he could feel him in the back of his mind, his warmth and presence.

"I think it's time to go home," she said.

From what Charles had gleaned, they had made it up through the tunnels Erik and he had opted to not use - their little diversion apparently having created enough chaos for her and the Howling Commandos to get through.

"I can't, I'm sorry," Charles replied when he realized she was waiting for an answer. He didn't look at Erik, but he could feel him squeezing his hand under the blanket.

Before Charles could carry on, Erik interrupted. "Schmidt let slip that I have children somewhere - twins - I can't let them keep them. I need to find them"

"And I can't let him do this on his own," Charles continued. "He helped me find both Raven and Cain again. How can I do less than help him in return?"

"Yeah… no, no going home yet for any of us, then," Peggy agreed, giving them a tired smile.

Charles shared a look with Erik. "Whatever intel we find that might aid you, we'll send in your direction."

"Thank you. We'll do the same, if we find any information about your children, we'll let you know." She made to stand back up then paused. "What about your brother and sister?"

"I'm not sure," Charles said after a pause. He hadn't gone trespassing but he had a fairly good idea of what both wanted. "They will want to make their own choices, now that we know we're all safe. I think Raven will want to either return to Britain or continue on with you - and I'm pretty sure Cain wants to stay with you and the Commandos - if you'll have him." He'd seen the look of longing and worship on Cain's face when he'd seen the Howling Commandos.

Peggy quirked a grin. "Who would say no to someone that powerful wanting to join the team? And we can definitely use the help. We may be rid of Schmidt, and oddly, thanks to him, Hitler as well. But there's still a lot of tidying up, making everyone realize the war can end now."

"And making sure no other maniac takes their place," Erik said.

"That goes without saying," Peggy agreed.

"Charles?"

They all looked up and found Raven watching them with a young woman behind her. Charles gave her a second look and realized the woman's eyes were milky white. Blind.

"Yes?" Charles said, waiting for the inevitable. She wasn't going to let him in anytime soon and he wasn't going to leave Erik's side.

"Aren't you coming back with us?" she asked.

"You don't want me to come back with you," Charles said bluntly. "And no, I didn't read your mind. I know from Frost some of what happened here, and I felt you flinch earlier. I won't hold it against you, Raven. You are my sister, and I love you, but if I make you feel ill at ease…"

Raven looked devastated. "I can fight that, Charles, we can all be a family again."

"Do you truly mean that?" Charles asked. "I know, deep down you do, but can you live under the same roof as me anytime soon?"

"But where will you go if I go back home?" She looked like the little girl he remembered in right that moment.

"I have… obligations here, for a little longer," Charles told her. "And if Erik is amenable, I'll bring him and his children when we find them, back with me." Another squeeze told him this wasn't an impossible outcome.

"Would you mind if I brought Irene with me?" Raven asked, touching the young woman's hand.

"Of course not," Charles said, wondering exactly what Schmidt had done to this woman. She didn't say anything, but he felt a strong mental presence. Nothing like his own telepathy, but definitely a psionic. He felt strength and determination when he looked at her. "If you feel at ease with Irene, I have no objections." If anything, he hoped Irene might prove to mend Raven enough for her to eventually tolerate the presence of his gift again.

"Howard will be picking up some of the people we liberated in the basement," Peggy explained. "He'll bring them out to the coast and to our main camp there to make sure they get the help they need and aid in finding their families. I'm sure there'll be room for you two on the plane."

Raven gave her a thankful smile. "Thank you."

Peggy nodded. She turned to Charles and Erik. "Anything else I can do for you gentlemen?"

"Rations if you have them," Charles said, looking over at Erik. "We have two lost children to search for."

Erik nearly crushed his hand under the blanket, but Charles couldn't' stop the stupid grin on his face.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That took an insane amount of time to get done and edited, but that's it for this now. I might, at some point, return to this universe - there's still finding the children. However, right now I don't have enough ideas for a plot for that, so the story will have to go to the back of the queue ;) (behind both steam punk and Warehouse 13 stories). It was fun to do and a huge thank you to Brilcrist for saying yes when I asked if I could use her image for reference.


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